Emeralds and Sapphires
by Grimwrite Inkworth
Summary: Harry/Pansy:Post-War:Harry turned his back away from his past:Trust and Betrayal:Lost and Found
1. Chapter 1: His New Life

Disclaimer:

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note:

This story is based on a One-Shot fan fiction entitled "All There Is" by sellthelie/mandy_jg. I liked the story so I created my own version of it. This story is completely different but I got some great ideas from "All There Is", so I'll give the author credits for that. I wanted to thank sellthelie/mandy_jg for writing a very interesting story. Her story inspired me to write for the first time. Please read and review. Thanks. Enjoy!

Summary:

Harry Potter/Pansy Parkinson::Post-War::Harry has been staying in the Muggle world for more than a decade. He lived a normal life away from everything that has something to do with his past. For some complicated reason, he turned his back to the life he once had and to his friends who have been with him for the longest time.

**Chapter 1: His New Life**

It's a beautiful day. The harmonious chirping of birds is enough to depict the fairness of the weather. The morning breeze brushed away the chilling traces of the night. The sun's in a good mood, one must say.

A shaft of golden light sneaked its way through the small gap between the black curtains of Harry Potter's bedside-window. The stream of daylight seemed to be intently focused on his face, which exasperated him, making him growl under his breath.

He furiously swatted the immensely annoying beam away, which obviously doesn't make any sense. He turned his back against the light and lifted his blanket to cover his entire body.

"Bugger off, you bloody sun!" he muttered grouchily as he fell back to sleep.

A couple of minutes later, he jerked his head up looking at the then blurry space around him. He crumpled his eyes with his hands and sat up. He stared absently at the grey walls of his flat for several seconds thoughtfully touching his lightning-shaped scar, one of the few reminders of his past.

"It's been a long time," he whispered to himself. "Oh Merlin's beard! What time is it?" He panicked, as he noticed the radiance indicating the start of a new day. He sprung to his feet, throwing the blanket to the floor. He retrieved his wrist watch from the trunk beside his bed and rushed his way to the loo.

"Why didn't you wake me up you useless watch? I'll be dead if I don't get there in time!" He scowled, chiding the poor wrist watch.

He reached the shower after a few strides, removed his boxers, threw it to the laundry bin and let himself be embraced by the lukewarm water.

It took him a while to finish washing his long yet still unruly hair. He dried it with a clean towel, not bothering to use magic at all.

He got used to the muggle-way of doing everyday things ever since he left the Wizarding World almost eleven years ago. Though he always had his wand ready whenever needed, he doesn't rely that much to magic anymore. A couple of charms here and there, a few chants for ward enforcement and the ever reliable glamour charm to hide his daunting scar were the only spells traceable from his old holly. He does wandless magic once in a while when he's alone, but he really tries hard not to. He hadn't even apparated for years now.

He put on the black corduroy trousers he wore the day before and dug his closet for a clean shirt. He pulled his shoulder-length raven-black hair into a neat ponytail. This is the only way he can manage his unruly hair.

His emerald eyes gazed into the mirror examining his face. He's not the same scrawny boy anymore. His face is more defined, more masculine in verity with the tuft of black hair on his chin. He got rid of his atrocious round glasses after an intricate muggle eye operation. He looked more like Sirius except for his beautiful emerald eyes.

He summoned his wand from his bedside table. Once he got hold of his wand, a few swishes and flicks and a silent incantation, vanished his lightning-shaped scar. He smoothed the skin where it was etched and fashioned a lopsided smile. He tucked his eleven inches holly into his wand holster under his left arm and put a clean white shirt on.

"I can do this!" He said after a long suffering-sigh. Facing the mirror for the second time, he focused his attention to his eyes. He can see through his green orbs. He can trace the sadness and pain within them. He accomplished his destiny as the vanquisher of the Dark Lord. Peace embraced the Wizarding World once again after many years of tyranny and war. He's a hero, an image of bravery, justice and power, an idol for some, but his life has never been as empty as it is now. He had long accepted the death of his parents, Sirius, Remus and Tonks, Cedric, Albus and Severus, but there's still a hollow part in his heart, the very part which kept him alive in the midst of war. They took that part away from him.

Silent tears dripped from his eyes, creating a river of unspoken agony in his hardened face. "Damn it! I'm leaking!" he wiped his tears dry and laughed at himself.

"She's right. I'm such a baby sometimes." he forced a smile and nodded at his image."Well, that's better!"

He squared his broad shoulders and walked away from the mirror. He strode across the room with a controlled grace. He's still as imposing as before even he tries hard not to. Walking athwart his messy flat, he salvaged a dark green hooded jumper from his crammed full leather couch before waving his hand to clean the entire house.

"I shouldn't have done that," he said, shaking his head. "I guess the fact that I'm going to be late is enough of a reason to justify that."

He jogged toward the front door while putting his jumper on. He checked for his keys and turned to close the door. He locked the door manually and flipped his hood up.

~*~*~

He walked slowly away from his flat as few things still bugged his mind. '_What if they see me there? Am I ready to face them all? If it wasn't for my godson, I wouldn't be there in the first place._' He managed his thoughts with a little help from Occlumency.

He glanced back at his lonely flat. It's not that bad. It's decent enough for him but still looks dull. It seems like an old grumpy muggle lives there. It's like a smaller modern version of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place less the creepy furnishings and the eerie atmosphere.

He has been living there ever since he left the life he once had as The-Boy-Who-Lived, the Vanquisher of Evil.

He lived a normal life in the heart of the busy Muggle-London. He is working as a photographer for Vogue, a well-known muggle fashion publication. He introduced himself to the Muggle World as James Black. He made a name in the creative industry for his unique techniques in photography and his ever present charm. He never thought he would have the passion for the art of photography until his eye operation six years ago.

Photography has been his life. He met a lot of people and had been to a lot of places too. He's been to almost every part of the world and with beautiful women, mind you. He dated some of his models; well, dated him seems more accurate. He tried to avoid unwanted relationships but girls just don't listen. They keep appearing on his doorstep, but he, burdened by his conscience and motivated by good will, doesn't have the Gryffindor courage to drive them away. He entertained them into his simple life and let them suit themselves. He never had a serious relationship since he restrains himself to touch any girl, so to speak. None went farther than dinners and movie marathons.

His present life is far from thrilling compared to his adventures back in his old life in the Wizarding World. But this kind of life is enough to keep him from the brink of insanity caused by thinking too much about things from his past and about a certain someone… his heart.

He was employed in a coffee shop for two years before heading to where he is in life right now. His employer and friend, Mrs. Turner, had helped him become accustomed to the life in London. She was the one who advised him to consult an eye specialist to look at the poor condition of his eyes. She's a sweet lady in her late sixties. She was a widow with a happy-go-lucky son, whom in the shade of destiny, became Harry's good friend and annoying big brother. They welcomed him into their family with open arms. No questions asked. His past was never an issue for them.

His first year alone in the Muggle World has been a struggle. He wandered all around Europe trying to find a place to heal, but under the same lonely sky, he ended up in a place close to where he once was 'homed'. He was almost broken down emotionally from the aftermath of the war. At a young age, he had experienced more hardships than any adult. He had gone through so much that normal humans wouldn't even last. He never thought he'd live as far as this in his cruel life. He wanted to loosen his grip and let go. He wanted to surrender and bow down before the feet of suffering and death. But a part of his heart, even it is hollow… taken away from him, sends jolts of hope through out his system. He can't give up. He just can't.

After a year of solitude, he gave himself a chance to live a new life. He applied for a decent job in a small coffee shop since he was never schooled in any Muggle Educational Institution except for the lousy years spent in school with Dudley, and presenting a magical diploma from Hogwarts will never be a good idea. He was accepted after a brief interview in the aforementioned coffee shop.

He easily coped up with the nature of his work. He was starting to live a new life. Being on the receiving end of care and guidance by another motherly-figure in the person of Mrs. Turner, he straightened himself up, masked his broken heart and moved on slowly.

He left his wealth under the care of the Goblins. He never relied to the fortune bestowed upon his name which can sustain his life for thousands of years, if he could live that long, without working at all. He never withdrew any amount other than the cost of his eye operation.

~*~*~

"Oh come on!" He whined as he felt trickles of rain from the heavens. "This was supposed to be a sunny day!"

He jogged lightly toward the direction of the Turner residence and lifted his left hand to check the time. It's quarter to 9:00 am. He needs to move faster so he could still talk to his godson.

After running a few blocks, the sight of the Turner residence lightened up his anxiety. Bob, Mrs. Turner's son and his closest friend from his new life, is on the roof replacing some worn out panels. Bob's a couple of inches shorter than Harry. He has neat dark brown hair complementing his light brown eyes which he got from his mother. He's bulkier compared to Harry's lean frame. He has a rich collection of Celtic and Maori tattoos creating sleeves for both his arms. In contrast to his intimidating exterior, he's a caring big brother who always wears a goofy smile.

"Wotcher mate!" Harry yelled from the foot of the erected ladder.

"Blimey James! You scared the shit out of me! Don't do that when I'm working! I'm losing my focus here, you see." He bunched dry leaves from the gutter and threw them at Harry.

Harry laughed when Bob tensed up upon hearing him yell and threw dried leaves missing him completely. "You should improve your aim Bobby. I reckon you're getting older faster than I am."

"Just get your arse inside the house James. Mum prepared a sandwich for you just incase you forgot to eat your breakfast again. You know mate, forgetting to eat breakfasts is a sign of aging," he said with an evil grin.

Harry grinned back. "I just have a lot of things in mind," Harry explained while running his fingers into his hair. "Why are you fixing the roof under the drizzle anyway?"

"Not watching the news, are you? There'll be a downpour tomorrow and…" Bobby lowered his voice, "Mum's getting more and more bothersome. So I willed myself to do some work today."

"I heard that Robert Turner!" Mrs. Turner berated.

Bob smile sheepishly at his mother. "Hi Mum!"

"Morning Mrs. Turner," Harry smiled at the presence of the old lady. She's as radiant as ever with her sweet smile. She has a pair of beautiful light brown eyes slightly hidden under her oversized thick-framed glasses. She always had her silver hair tied in a bun above her head, setting off the roundness of her face.

"Here's your breakfast James," handing him a plate of stuffed club sandwich. "I know you're in a hurry."

"Thanks Mrs. Turner."

Realizing how hungry he was, he munched the sandwich down leaving nothing but an empty plate. "That was the best sandwich I've ever eaten. Thank you very much!"

"You don't have to flatter me dear boy. Just get on your feet and do what you have to do for the day." She patted Harry's shoulder and looked at him with a knowing smile.

Harry has always been out of town at least once a week. Bob and his mum never asked him where he goes. Even with Bob's aggro nature, he never interrogated Harry, well James for them. He wanted to tell them the truth but he doesn't want any other shoulder bear the same burden he has been carrying for years. He never really abandoned his past… he has always been searching for the part of him he lost.

"Thanks. I should get going."

"Can I come with you mate?" Bob said while climbing down the ladder.

"Don't even think about running away from your chores Robert!" Mrs. Turner scolded Bob like a little boy. "Unless of course if you find yourself a wife or a job at least!"

Harry smiled at the usual banter between Bob and his Mum. He sees this exchange for almost everyday just like when he's still with the Weasleys. He can't help but smile to the images of those long lost memories. He's forever thankful for those times.

Harry jogged toward the bus stop. '_It's almost 9:30 am. The Hogwarts Express would leave at exactly 11:00 am. I need to move faster._'

He stood there for a few minutes. '_Merlin! If my hunch is true, I have just missed the bus,_' he thought, scratching his head in resignation.

'_I guess there's no helping it._' Harry spun and ran into an empty alley. He checked the area for Muggle presence… and with a soft pop, he disapparated directly to King's Cross Station.

~*~*~

Harry appeared in a dark alleyway beside the station. He brushed the dirt from his dark green hooded jumper. He hadn't experienced the feeling of being squeezed into a tube for a long time.

"Whew! Lucky I didn't get splinched," a minute smile emerged from his lips. "That feels good. I missed that," he said as his minute smile grew in to a grin whilst walking his way to the station.

Harry's eyes twinkled at the spectacle before him. He reminisced the very first time he walked this place. This station has always been crowded but this day is special. He can see the auras of the wizards and witches pacing in different directions. Magic is everywhere. The magic in the air is thick enough to be sliced with a knife.

Parents escort their children hand in hand for their trip to the prestigious Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He can see the cute little nervous auras of incoming first years. Their faces were covered with excitement and curiosity. Laughter and giggles filled the path towards Platform 9 ¾. Little witches and wizards hopped their way to the magical portal while the older ones maintained the order. Flashing cheeks and colorful smiles lightens the busy atmosphere.

Amidst the animated crowd, Harry strode inaudibly, away from unwanted personalities. His steps were engulfed by grace despite his rugged attire. Each step with his old pair of sneakers creates ripples of raw power without him knowing it. Everyone he passed by felt an unexplainable chill creeping their spine and then there's a sudden rush of warmth enveloping their hearts. That's his magic… sleeping within his core, but with the presence of foreign magic around him, it hints its presence to warn and to comfort.

He stepped into the portal between Platform 9 and 10. He looked at the huge clock above him. It's 9:40 am. "I guess I got here a little too early."

He looked around, searching for familiar faces. It took him a while to scan the entire platform. None of the faces registered to his memory. "I reckon ten years is still a short time for everyone to change the way they look."

"Who are you talking to, mister?" a little girl with a waist-length jet black hair inquired. Her curious eyes studied Harry for a while, beaming at him like how Professor Dumbledore studied him during his time.

Harry flashed a sweet smile to the little girl. "Oh, I'm sorry about that. I just think out loud sometimes."

"Ooo-okay… If you say so… Bye!" The little girl seemed unconvinced yet she left Harry standing in the middle of the crowd as she made her way to an empty bench. She walked against the flow of the crowd. Even with her small frame, she managed to get through the mass without getting bumped into. She maintained her elegant grace amidst the busy platform.

Harry watched the little girl with awe. He had never seen anyone at that age carry herself with ease and confidence. She's like a princess… everyone unconsciously creates a path for her.

He followed the little girl and sat at the other end of the bench. She was sitting there quietly, her small hands clasped together above her knees. She held her head high. Her pale skin reflects the frosted lights of the platform, making her glow.

"Hi! I'm Harry. What's your name little miss?" he asked politely. '_Oops… why did I tell her my real name? Am I really that absentminded?_'

"I'm sorry kind sir, I was told not to talk to strangers," she answered without looking at Harry.

"But… but, you talked to me first, didn't you?" Harry stuttered.

He was confused. He's like talking to a completely different person. A while back, he was talking to a curious little girl, now he's like taking to a little lady. Her aura seemed different too. A few moments ago, she's projecting a playful golden aura. But the little girl he was talking to right now, has a contained dark green aura surrounding her entire body.

He beamed at her with amazement. His emerald eyes twinkled as he maintained his gaze. '_This girl reminds me of someone, but I can't figure out who it was._'

Her beautiful green eyes met his and returned a lovely smile. "Well, you have a point. I approached you first."

'_Wait a minute… green eyes? They're beautiful_. _Maybe that was the reason why she looks familiar._' He studied her closer, not letting go of the eye contact. He noticed how the contained green aura burst into sparkling golden flickers. "Why did you approach to me earlier? I'm a stranger in the first place."

The little girl giggled in response. "I thought you were odd and you looked funny in your jumper."

"That's it?" Harry chuckled. "But a stranger is a stranger," he quipped.

"Yep, but you don't seem to be a stranger to me. Your magic is warm and comforting," the little girl explained as she moved closer to him.

"That explains a lot," he said, nodding absently. "Wait, did you say you felt my magic?"

"Yes I did. You're pretty powerful but you're suppressing it," a sudden twirl in her green eyes rivaled the glint in Harry's eyes. "Would you believe me if I tell you I can see magical people's aura when I concentrate?"

Harry dropped his jaw in astonishment. "You're pretty powerful yourself if you can see other's aura at a very young age."

"I practice a lot with my mum. We lived in a Muggle community and she's the only magical person I know, so I learned everything from her. She taught me everything about magic and the Wizarding World" she elucidated with dreamy eyes.

"That makes sense. So your father is a Muggle?" Harry asked out of his Gryffindor curiosity.

"Nope, he's not. Actually, I've never met him. My mum told me that almost everyone she'd ask about my dad told her that they haven't heard anything from him, some even said that he's already dead, but mum never believed them. She still believes that my dad will find us someday," she said as a single tear fell from one of her beautiful eyes. "Yep, maybe... someday."

It's obvious that she's refraining herself from crying. She clutched her pale knees and lowered her head. Her lips were shaking but she managed to stay calm and control her emotions.

"I'm sorry. I did not mean to ask you such insensitive question," Harry comforted the little girl by embracing her with a small amount of his magic. "You're a brave little princess, you know that? I'm sure your father will find you soon."

The little girl wiped her eyes with her wrists, looked straight into Harry's eyes and smiled. Her smile was overwhelming. Her eyes were looking directly into his soul. Harry's heart ached unexplainably upon the girl's openness.

"By the way," Harry interjected; as he felt guilty himself the longer he stayed in contact with the little girl's amazing emerald eyes. "Why are you alone? Where's your mum?"

"She's just outside with my stuff. It's really hard to find a parking space these days, so she let me go in first," she answered briskly.

"She let you go by yourself?" Harry wondered.

"Yep, she trusts me completely." She's livelier now unlike the way she was few minutes ago.

"Wow! You must be really close," he exclaimed.

"Yes we are!" she said bubbly. "By the way, what's with the funny hood? Are you hiding from someone?"

"I'm afraid so. I don't really live here in the Wizarding World like you and your mum. I'm just here to see my godson off. I don't want to be recognized by anyone because they'll just make a ruckus out of it."

"Are you famous or something?" the girl excitedly inquired.

"Something like that." Harry smiled sheepishly.

"Wow! You're so cool!" she said as she grinned at Harry widely.

A boy hopping vigorously caught his attention. He has light brown spiky hair and misty black eyes looking around curiously. He's pulling a red wagon with all his things in there. Atop his things sat a highly decorated bird cage housing a beautiful parrot. He's with a tall elegantly dressed witch in her mid fifties. She has a long wavy brown hair resting on her trim shoulders. She's just standing there protruding the imposing nature of the Black family. Harry grinned at the sight.

Harry faced the girl and knelt before her. "I have to go little princess, my godson and his grandmother has arrived and I should meet them. It's my pleasure meeting you," he leaned forward and kissed her small hand.

The little girl smiled at him, looking into the depths of his eyes with her penetrating gaze as he rose from his position.

"Do you want to meet them?" Harry asked.

"I'm okay. Thank you. My mum's on her way here this very moment," she answered intelligibly.

"How…" Harry was about to ask something when the little girl interjected. "I just know."

Harry smiled and bowed before her. He already walked a couple of yards away when he heard the little girl's angelic voice, "I'm Jamie. Thank you for keeping me company."

Harry glanced back and nodded. With an abrupt wave of his hand, he whispered to the wind, "Just believe little princess, someday your wishes will come true."

Jamie heard the soft whisper delivered by the gentle wind. She stood up and tears fell from her enthralling emerald eyes. She whispered to herself, "_I will_."

~*~*~

Harry strode excitedly across the platform. Wearing a wide grin, he approached his godson and his grandmother. "Wotcher Teddy! Hi Andi!" bowing at the latter.

"Look who's here!" Andromeda kissed Harry's cheek. "Good to see you again dear, how are you?"

"I'm fine Andi, you shouldn't worry about me," he answered thoughtfully. "How's our little guy?"

Andromeda wrapped her slender arm around Teddy's small shoulders. "He's doing great, just a little nervous, I think."

"That's good," Harry said. "Where's good old Ted?"

"Oh, he has an appointment with the Council of Metamorphmagi. You know, since Teddy's going to school, he needs to be registered sooner than later," she replied. "And, he doesn't want his grandson to see him in tears. He protects his pride that much."

Both of them laughed.

Teddy smirked at his grandmother and turned to Harry, "I'm doing great old man. I just get a little too excited sometimes that my hair keeps changing color."

"Hey! I'm not old! I'm just 28 you see!" Harry laughed as he lowered himself so he could look straight into his godson's eyes. "Why aren't you giving your godfather a hug?"

Teddy looked around warily and gave Harry a huge warm hug. "Is that okay?" he asked sheepishly.

"That's more than enough," Harry smiled and squeezed the boy's shoulders gently. "Just be yourself Teddy. I know how hard it is to be different, but you should always remember that you are special. You'll eventually meet friends who will understand you and accept you for what you are."

The wide-eyed little metamorphmagus threw himself to Harry and looked up to his teary-eyed grandmother. His hair color has been changing in a constant phase upon hearing his godfather's little speech. "Thanks for being here," he whispered to his ear.

Harry grinned as he pulled himself away from his godson, "We're proud of you Teddy, and I'm sure Remus and Nymphy are very, very proud of you."

"Thank you Harry," Teddy said softly.

Harry stood up upon the sight of the fiery red train arriving at the station. "That's your ride, Teddy!" He exclaimed, pointing at the direction of the Hogwarts Express.

"Cool!" Teddy jumped up and down as he looked at the astonished faces of Harry and his grandmother with his puppy-dog-eyes.

"Of course, you can go now dear boy," she kissed Teddy on his cheek. "Find yourself some good friends love, enjoy!"

Teddy then turned to Harry. He saluted him like a little soldier and grinned mischievously.

Harry threw a stiff salute back at his godson, "Send Remi if you need something," he prompted - Remi's Teddy's pet parrot, a birthday gift from Harry.

"Aye!" Teddy waved as he vigorously pulled his wagon toward the train.

"Wow, he's so spirited!" Harry turned to Andromeda; his eyes are still following Teddy as he stepped into the train.

"He's so much like his mother on her first day," her eyes are still misty but she managed a sweet smile.

"Just as I thought," Harry chuckled, wrapping an arm around the older woman's shoulders.

They walked slowly through the dense crowd. They exchanged stories, bantered about small things and laughed.

Both of them stopped at the sight of a bunch of red-heads rushing their way to the train. They always arrive at the last minute. Some things never change.

Ron and Hermione are walking hastily, their hands clasped together. Hermione seems to be talking to Ron about something. Ron wears his usual clueless look, while Hermione wears an obvious scowl. Arthur and Molly Weasley were just a few paces behind the couple. A little red-haired girl walks before the bunch. She looks smart with her neatly done hair. She has enthusiasm painted in her freckled face. She carries a white Persian cat who keeps staring at Harry which is quiet obvious from the distance between them.

"Cats are creepy," he whispered.

Andromeda laughed softly and looked at Harry in the eyes, "Aren't you going to talk to them dear?" she asked.

"Nah, I should go Andi, I still have some work to do," he reasoned.

"You can't just run away all the time dear. I know they've done something wrong but you should at least give them a chance. Somehow after all those years they've eventually learned something from their mistakes. Maybe they have changed for the better. They were once your best friends Harry," her dark brown eyes were pleading for Harry to listen.

"I don't know Andi. I don't know what to do. I loved them like my own family, and I still love them all. Ron and Hermione, Ginny, the other Weasleys, everyone… they're everything to me. But they've hurt me, they betrayed my trust. My heart aches every time I thought of them," he said quietly controlling the surge of magic escaping his core.

"Love is enough reason to forgive Harry," she pulled Harry into a warm motherly-hug and patted his back.

"I'm sorry Andi, but I'm still not ready for that," he leaned over and planted a kiss on her forehead. "Once in my miserable life, I found someone who truly cares about me, me as Harry… just Harry. She loved me and made me feel it. She's my life. She's the reason I survived the war. The seed of hope she planted in my heart kept me standing on my feet up until now. I loved her more than anything in this world, but my friends never understood that. They hated her and they never gave her a chance. They forced her away from me. Like what you've said Andi, love is a good reason, but they refused to see that."

"I understand you dear," she said while brushing away the tears from the young man's emerald eyes.

"Thank you Andi, I should get going. Stay safe and say hi to old Ted for me," Harry forced a smile as he kissed the older woman's hand.

Harry stepped away from her and nodded.

"Keep in touch dear and thanks for being here today, this means a lot to our little Teddy" she waved her hand as she walked toward the Apparation point.

Harry smiled. Thinking about things to do for the day, he treaded his way to the portal across the crowded platform.

~*~*~

"Are you okay sweetie?" Pansy asked, sitting beside her daughter.

"Hi mum! I'm fine," she grinned at her worried mother.

"Were you crying?" she looked at her daughter's eyes, her lovely blue eyes were clouded with concern.

"In a good way, yes," she said playfully.

"Really? How so?" she brushed her shiny black hair away from her face as she prepared herself to listen to her daughter's explanation.

"I just met a wonderful man, he's weird and funny but I can feel that he's a good guy," she explained, continuing to every detail of their conversation.

Pansy listened carefully as Jamie narrated her story with enthusiasm. Her fair rosy skin glows as much as her daughter's. Her long hair swayed with the breeze, brushing the silky fabric of her ebony Muggle dress. They're like sisters, they giggled and laughed together. Her perfect lips arches in a way you would describe as angelic. She was far from her image back when she was in Hogwarts. Without the vicious sneer, her beauty is ethereal.

"Did you say his name was Harry?" Pansy asked, feeling her heart beating faster than normal. She felt a chilling surge up her spine causing the tiny hairs in her nape to stand up.

"Yep, it's funny isn't it mum? He has the same name as dad," she said without realizing how pale her mother has become.

"Where is he?" Pansy asked quickly.

"Are you okay mum? You look sick," she said studying her mum's blue eyes. "He's on the other side of the platform with his godson, why do you ask?" she sent a questioning look to her mother.

"Oh! You should get going sweetie. I'll just send your things afterwards. It's better to be inside the train early so you'll find yourself a comfortable carriage," she avoided her daughter's question and wrapped her into her warm embrace.

"Okay mum," she kissed her mum in her cheek and returned a sweet embrace.

"I'll owl you every other day sweetie. Just enjoy yourself and make a lot of friends. And as much as possible, listen to the professors, okay?"

"Got you mummy, I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too."

Pansy stood up and watched her daughter walk slowly into the Hogwarts Express.

Jamie looked back at her anxious mother and flashed a thoughtful smile.

_tbc..._


	2. Chapter 2: Green and Blue

Disclaimer:

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Chapter 2: Green and Blue**

As soon as Pansy saw her daughter step into the train, she turned her head to every direction. She looked around and thoroughly scanned the crowded platform. It's easier to see each people in the platform now, since no one was on the rush, except for the children lining up to enter the train. Parents were mostly standing still, hand in hand, consolidating each other as they see their children off.

She walked slowly through the crowd, examining every face she glances upon. She'd looked around but she can't find what she's been looking for. She's obviously nervous. Her hands are shaking and her rosy skin becomes paler and paler.

After a few moment of her apprehensive search, she felt a familiar surge of magic. She nearly got swept off her feet as she felt a chilling cold breeze cover her entirety. Once the cold air touched her skin, the chilling sensation became warm and relaxing. Her tensed posture loosened up. Her heart still pounds hard inside her chest, screaming his name. '_He's here._ _I can feel him._'

Harry had his mind flying as he walked slowly toward the portal. He watched as his feet raced one another. '_Left, right, left, right…_'

He was like a log drifting in a pitch black river. He's hollow, easy, light, drifting… drifting… His heart still aches from what he saw earlier. He saw the same people whom he trusted and loved but betrayed him in the end. He wanted to talk to them, same as old times. He wanted to forget what's been done and start all over again, but his heart is still incomplete and bleeding… he's not ready. He longed to feel that feeling again, the feeling of having a whole heart not a holed heart. His soul is crying but he can't do anything. With the most important part of his heart missing, he can't tend to his suffering soul.

He stopped his feet as a sudden change occurred within him. He felt his blood flow became freer than ever. His face flushed. He felt a warm presence embracing his bleeding heart, caressing it gently. He never felt this way for the last decade. He felt a lot better now, but his body seemed numb. He felt his heart growing, tending its own wound. "_Pansy?_"

~*~*~

"Stop following me Potter!" she scowled.

"May I remind you Parkinson that it's your bloody fault that I'm stuck with you for the rest of the day!" he hissed, glaring at the irate Slytherin.

"I just want to be alone Potter! Please!" she begged, tears filling her blue eyes, as she continued her way up the Astronomy tower.

Harry felt his heart break into pieces the moment he saw tears from the Slytherin Princess' eyes. He followed her without saying anything. He wanted to say something but he felt that it would help them both if he would just keep his mouth shut. He was quite aware that his stupid mouth sometimes says too much without even consulting the scarred brain of his. He clearly knew what had happened earlier that day at their Potions class and he felt guilty for blaming her.

They both know nothing about each other. He thought she's a snotty bitch: she thought he was balloon-headed show off. They never talked civil since prejudice always comes beforehand. They never had their chance - a Gryffindor golden boy and a Slytherin Princess – not bloody likely.

Having Pansy Parkinson as his potions partner, everything keeps turning into a mess. It all started when Professor Horace Slughorn paired them up. He said that a Potter and a Parkinson would make a good couple. And in addition to that, he stated it with a wink and blushing cheeks. Two prominent families, a hero plus a princess; he thought it would be superfluously interesting. Of course, objections were raised but what can they possibly do? Even with his ever bouncing belly, Professor Slughorn was as scary as Professor Snape in some freaking way. Their new Potions professor has this freakish obsession with rich and famous personalities. And having a half-Gryffindor-half-Slytherin class makes him ebullient and extra bouncy. They were almost always invited to after-school tea parties, which almost a given, give Harry the creeps.

"Oh Merlin… " Harry said to himself; breathing a sigh of relief as he saw Pansy sitting on the shaded part of the tower and not hexing him. She was sitting there silently, resting her back on the cold wall. Her arms crossed across her pale legs, knees against her heaving chest. She glanced up as soon as she heard someone opened the door, but buried her reddened sapphires unto her crossed-arms again upon realizing that it was just Harry Potter.

"As expected, you're not even powerful enough to defy the effects of a bloody potion," she whispered without bothering if Harry would hear it or not.

"I heard that Parkinson," he said gravely. "It's not just a bloody potion for your information. It's Adstringoserum. It's potent enough to force me and Snivellus to stick together for a bleeding day."

"I know what Adstringoserum is Potter! I was the one who brewed it, remember?" she said, darting a glance at the slightly opened door.

"I know, and that makes this your fault!" He bellowed. He looked back the door and said, "And we are staying here until the effect wears off. We're just tiring ourselves down running around the castle."

"Really Potter? Is it really my fault? Urgh! You're just supposed to smell the potion! Not drink the bloody vial up!" Her luscious lips were quivering in anger as she glared the daggers to Harry.

Harry opened his mouth, but no words came out. He knew deep inside that it was his fault but he just can't just accept defeat before one of his enemies.

"You're a pig-headed idiot, you know that Potter!"

"What did you say?" he responded crossly.

"You're a downright bastard and an insensitive git!" Pansy yelled, springing upright.

"Shut up you pug-faced slut! You don't know me! You're just Malfoy's puppy, another worthless minion of your murderous half-blooded Dark Lord! " Harry yelled back. '_Bugger, I think I'm dead._'

Pansy pulled out her wand swiftly and pointed it directly unto the heart of the Boy-Who-Lived. Her hand was shaking and her lower lip is bleeding after unconsciously biting it out of her rage. Her tears are falling freely, tainting her lovely face, flushed with anger.

In almost six years in Hogwarts, Harry has never seen Pansy in that state before. She displays her contorted face and her devilish sneer most of the time, but he could not remember a time that Pansy came close to this. A tear in the eyes of a known cold-hearted Slytherin would pretty much be peculiar for him and anyone who would see it, and he's seeing tears from her cold blue eyes… That's more than he could ever imagine. Seeing her in a very vulnerable and fragile shape, makes him curse himself inside for saying what he said. He was afraid and guilty at the same time. He doesn't even have an idea on how this girl's mind works. She could just snap and just strike him with a killing curse or she could even torture him to death. He's totally clueless.

"L-Look, I'm sorry, I-I-I was out of my mind. I'm just-" he stammered.

"Stop it, will you!" Pansy looked at him grimly, she hadn't shed her mask but the hurt twirling in her blue eyes is shouting it all. "For once in you life, listen to what your saying Potter!" She wiped her eyes with her free hand and continued, "I hate you! I hate you so much Potter!"

Harry just stood still without saying anything. He focused his attention on her pleading blue eyes. She seems bothered by something, but he has no clue. Her eyes wanted to say something but he doesn't know if he has the heart to listen. He didn't see this coming. The cold-hearted Slytherin Princess is breaking down before him.

Harry raised both his hands in capitulation as he slowly lowered himself to sit down on the cold and dusty floor. He looked up at her. Her hands are still quivering as the tip of her wand touched Harry's scar. The tip of her wand was glistened with a green flare. He was just a few words away from being just a cold piece of meat.

"I'm ready to listen, Pansy. Go on," he said flatly as he rested his back unto the icy wall. He doesn't really know what he was doing but he took his chances. There was really something about Pansy Parkinson that intrigues him, and he had seen it again in her tear-filled eyes.

"What are you talking about Potter?" she solicited, lowering her wand, tracing down the etched lightning bolt in Harry Potter's forehead. Her voice is still shaken by the harsh exchange earlier.

"Look, I am very sorry for what I've said. Anger just clouded my senses and I just-you know… I–I just tried to retaliate," he said, hanging his head down. He couldn't bear the idea that he actually called a girl a slut. Even it was Pansy Parkinson at the bad end of his sharp words, it is not likely himself to call her that.

"Really? So what now? After your false assumptions, we're on a sudden first name basis? Trying to cover you're guilt, isn't it wonder boy?" she breathlessly stated, resigning herself on the floor beside Harry. She was physically and emotionally exhausted. This is one of the roughest days she has to endure.

"That's not it, Pansy. I really am sorry. I know I tried to hurt you by throwing a load of codswallop in your face, maybe because you've hurt me too… you know," he said solemnly. "I'm sorry."

"Why should I believe you?" she asked; a frown still visible in her pale face. She can feel his serenity but she chose not to jump into an indefinite conclusion.

"I don't know Pansy. It's all up to you," Harry turned to face her and gazed into her deep blue eyes. He moved a little closer to her and wiped the strip of blood just below her swollen lips with his thumb.

Pansy stiffened at his action. "What are you doing?" she asked nervously. She tried to look away but his emerald eyes kept her motionless.

"Making you believe," he murmured.

"O-okay, okay! I believe you!" she said looking away from his gaze, blushing slightly. "A-a-and… and don't touch me again without asking!"

Harry smiled at how he made the ever snotty Pansy Parkinson lost for words.

"You know, I really don't have an idea why I'm doing this but I can't help it. There's something in your eyes pleading to be unearthed, it's like something inside you is telling me you needed my help," he said tilting his head upwards. He laughed softly at himself and said, "I know I'm getting ahead of myself again but you know Pansy, even if we don't get along with each other, I'm still ready to listen."

"Why can't you just stop being a hero Potter? Do you honestly think you have a solution to everything?" she queried.

"I am not being a hero Pansy and I don't have the solution to everything. I'm just human like you, and within this proximity, I can feel the weight inside you. I want to help," he sagged his head. "You may not like me but I can be your makeshift friend if you need to. Honestly, I don't mind."

Pansy stayed silent for a couple of minutes. Harry gave her a chance to compose herself and gave her some space to think. He just looked at her discretely, studying her. He never had a chance to look at her this long. '_She doesn't look that bad without that signature sneer; she's pretty actually… very pretty._' Harry shook his head, '_Bugger, what am I thinking?_'

"Stop staring, will you!" she chided, hooking Harry back to reality. She raised one of her perfectly shaped brows as she demanded Harry for at least a normal response. "Are you still willing to listen, Harry?"

'_Wow! She called me Harry! I'm so happy!_' Harry smiled shyly at her and nodded. '_What? Why am I happy? Damn it! I'm loosing my mind._'

"I know you're well aware that my parents are loyal Death Eaters," she paused, looking uncomfortably into Harry's green eyes. "Well, the night before the start of classes, they took me with them to Malfoy Manor. I never had a hint of what they were planning all these years, so against my will, I just let them do what they do best… control my life." Her eyes turned misty as she fights the involuntary trembles of her beautiful lips.

Harry sat closer to her and held her hand tightly. He didn't know why he did that. He doesn't have a clue why his mind was somehow overridden by his unexplained actions. All he knows is that she needs him that very moment. He expected a violent response from her, maybe a slap in the face or a stinging hex, but she didn't do anything harsh. She lifted her head slowly instead and glanced at his concerned eyes. He remained silent. He breathed a sigh of relief and prepared himself to listen.

"They arranged a marriage between me and Draco," her inflamed eyes blinking faster as she controls her tears. "They wanted to merge our family fortunes. They thought that if Draco and I would inherit both Malfoy and Parkinson fortune, we could continue what they have started by supporting the snake-man. I never liked Draco, he's an incompetent git. He's an idiot and dreams of nothing but to serve that stupid Voldemort. I don't like his parents either. Lucius looks at me as if he was claiming me as his mistress and that's so disgusting. Narcissa and her loath-filled eyes; I simply can't take it. I may be a Death Eater spawn, if that's what you call us, but I will never kneel before someone like that Voldemort. I don't like his ways and he took my parents away from me even though they're still alive. I know you see me with Draco all the time but that doesn't mean I'm his friend or I like him or whatever it is that you thought I was. I did that for protection. If I'd stay with his group, I'll be safe inside and outside our dorm. It's so-called self-preservation, if you must know."

She felt Harry tighten his clasp. She felt somehow safe beside him, he's warm and comforting. His soft breathing calms her troubled heart surprisingly. She thought it's odd to find the security and comfort she had long desired from an unexpected personality.

"I don't know what to do anymore. I don't want to marry Malfoy and I don't want to be a Death Eater but I have no escape. I just want a normal life, a life away from them, away from all of this. I'm tired of being controlled. I'd rather die than be manipulated like a puppet." She was completely lost in her emotions. She tried to contain it but the more she pushes it back the harder and more painful it gets for her.

Harry wrapped his arms gently around the fragile girl before him. He held her close to his chest. He can feel her body shaking. With a soft kiss between her brows, Harry whispered against her pale skin, "From now on you have me to cry on, okay? I'll be your friend if you want me to."

Pansy nodded slowly as she heard Harry. She lifted her still shaking hands and wrapped her lithe arms around Harry. She felt her heart beating faster, but her trembling body had started to calm down. She can't explain what she's feeling but it doesn't matter, she never felt this good before.

Harry knew exactly how it feels to live a life you did not choose. It is sad and frustrating to be powerless in front of a destiny bigger than your own self. Every time he looks into a mirror, he asks himself if he can really do what he was supposed to do and live up to the expectations of all the people around him. The prophecy has already built a path for him; all he has to do is to walk straight even if his feet are bare.

Harry and Pansy were almost in the same situation. Their lives were already written. He may not escape his, but he can do something about Pansy's situation. He knows he should help her. And he will. Whatever it takes, he won't let anyone suffer the way he did.

"Come on Pans, just let it out of your system. Cry it out. Don't worry I will help you. I will never leave you as long as you need me." With his heart-softening words, Pansy tightened her embrace. She buried her face into Harry's chest and cried all her pain out.

She cried for several minutes until Harry felt her tensed shoulders loosen up. He can feel her tired body against his. "You should rest now," he whispered against the fair skin on her forehead as he kissed it lightly.

Pansy felt his tender lips as they were pressed softly in her forehead. She fluttered lightly, sensing indisputable concern from Harry. Harry Potter, of all people, was calming the uncertainty of her being.

She felt herself being lowered into his lap, and she did not contest. It was warm and comfortable. She felt contented, even though the rest of her body rests in the cold and dusty floor. It's ironic how safe and secure she feels here, in the most peculiar place and the oddest situation, with the boy she used to hate.

Harry brushed her neatly cropped black hair with his deft fingers as he let her rest her head on his lap. He stared at her with genuine concern. He swept the tears from her pretty face, studying her, memorizing every inch of her. Her silky skin glows under the moonlight. Her rosy cheeks were soft and warm, leaving him breathless as he touched them with delicateness. Her perfectly luscious lips parted slightly as she breathed softly. Soft locks of black hair caressed the smooth skin in her amazingly innocent-looking face as the night's breeze whispered it's good night. He watched her doze off. Her delicate eyelids leisurely covered the most beautiful pair of blue eyes he had ever seen. He hummed sweet tunes, savoring the comfort they unconsciously provide each other, until the cold breeze led him to dreamland.

~*~*~

Harry felt his back aching as he woke up. His shoulders were stinging in pain He stretched his arms and heard cracking sounds from his joints. "That's better," he said under his breath. He removed his glasses, wiped it with his haphazard robe and replaced it. He looked around and lightened his rumpled, just-woken-up look. Birds were chirping their morning songs as they hop across the stone balustrade. Fluffy clouds were partially covering the morning sun. He inhaled deeply, savoring the morning breeze as it tickled his face. His lips curled into a smile. It's a beautiful morning despite his aching body.

"Wait," he murmured, remembering the event the night before. "Pansy!" he called out in a cracked voice as he found himself sitting alone on the cold stone floor.

He sprung up to his feet, but he almost tumbled to his left as he felt the muscles in the left thigh and leg cramped. He leaned unto the wall to support his entire weight. He tried to flex his cramped leg and thump it hard on the floor. "Geez, not now!" he grimaced.

As soon as the cramp went away, he jogged wobbly to the door. He must have missed breakfast. It seems late and he can hear his stomach complaining already, but he worries more about Pansy than to his noisy stomach. He snapped at the door handle and swung the heavy wooden door open, hurrying his way out.

Harry staggered as he saw Pansy, wide-eyed in shock. She's reaching for the door handle when Harry swiftly pulled the door open. They almost collided, an inch more and they'd be rolling down the stiff spiral stairs.

"Oops, sorry," he smiled sheepishly as he looked down at the stunned form of the petite girl. They were just an inch apart, his face almost touching hers.

She didn't move. She can see his lips moving but she never heard a word he said. She bowed her head down deliberately, hiding the blush forming across her face. "Hi," she said softly.

"Morning Pans."

She looked up, meeting his eyes. "I brought you some food, I bet you're hungry by now," she said, pulling out a pack of chocolate frogs from her pocket. "Well, I can't find anything in the kitchen so I snatched this from an annoying first year."

Harry laughed, turning red in the process. "I can't believe you did that for me! I think I love you!" he stopped upon hearing what he just said. He pursed his lips and looked away in embarrassment. He turned redder than a Weasley, _'Shite! Merlin on a bike! Please tell me I didn't say that!'_

Harry saw the dumbfounded expression on Pansy's face, '_Oh my, this is the end of me!'_ "I-I m-mean I love your frogs!" he stammered. '_Bugger, that didn't sound right!_'

He paled as he saw her eyebrows knitted together. "I should get going Pans. Maybe they're forming a search party for me now. I really appreciate your thoughtfulness. You're beautiful and I really like chocolate frogs for breakfast. See you later," he garbled, flashing an awkward grin.

"And by the way, thank you Pans," Harry pecked her lips nonchalantly with his, before storming down the spiral stairs.

Pansy stood there slack jawed with a vacant expression, still touching her lips lightly. "That sneaky bastard!" she whispered, letting an impish smile cross her lips.

The kiss might have been as light as a feather but the butterflies circling down Pansy's stomach never left. It made her feel a little weird but all in all it feels great, liberating her constricted heart. Sneaky as he may be, she liked how innocent their first kiss turned out to be. Giggling at the back of her head, she gleefully trailed down the tower and made her way back to the dungeons.

~*~*~

Harry turned around, scrutinizing the vast crowd. She's nowhere to be seen, but he was certain he just felt her… he thought he felt her. He examined the entirety of the platform from his position. His emerald eyes were searching, drifting from place to place, wandering meticulously. He never felt this amount of hope building up inside him for years. He knew this was a sign.

He shook his head, knowing that what he was doing was useless for the time being. He threw back one last hopeful glance before he exited Platform 9 ¾.

Pansy never felt this close to seeing him again. She knew it was him. But fate doesn't seem to lead her to him or him to her. Maybe this isn't the right time for their hearts to be mended. At least, she thought, there's still hope. She entrusted their fate to the knowing hands of time.

~*~*~

"Harry!"

The sound of his name cut through his jumbled thoughts. He looked back and saw Ron and Hermione running behind him as he meandered in the corridor headed to the Gryffindor Tower, "Morning Ron! Morning Hermione!"

Hermione moved in front of him and stopped him in his track. "Where on earth have you been Harry?" she frowned, pressing her hands on her hips.

"It doesn't matter Hermione, I'm here now right?" he said, circling around her as he continued walking.

Hermione jogged after him while Ron maintained his slow pace, scratching his head.

"We were worried about you!" she said in a sharp tone.

"I know… and I'm sorry, okay?" he explained. "I came back in one piece, see?" he spread his arms and faced his best friends.

"Did that pug-face bitch touch you or anything?" Ron asked flatly.

"Don't call her that!" Harry yelled.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other with confusion evident in their faces.

"Since when did you become her defender?" Ron retaliated.

"Don't ever go near her again. She could be dangerous Harry – that menace of a girl," a disgusted look appeared in her face. "I'll talk to Professor Slughorn and I will convince him that you'll need a new partner," Hermione added.

He steadied his feet as he breathed a long suffering-sigh. He composed himself, clutching his own fist, and glared into Ron's sarcastic eyes then to Hermione's accusing hazels. "Just shut it! Please…" he besought as his emerald eyes twirl a glint of contempt. "She didn't do anything wrong. You guys are unbelievable!"

He turned around and walked his way straight to the Gryffindor Tower, not looking back at his two friends breathing down his neck.

"What's wrong with him?" Ron whispered to Hermione.

"I have no idea Ronald, just let him be," she said in a straight face.

"Come one Hermione, when did you run out of ideas?" he insisted, as he took hold of Hermione's shoulder. "Is that a side effect of drinking that potion or maybe… Parkinson gave him a different potion? A potion making Harry her slave, perhaps?" he asked wide-eyed, considering the possibility of his wild idea, "It fits right?"

Hermione didn't answer but glared into Ron's eyes with a just-shut-up-Ron look.

Ron pursed his lips and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

The fat lady wasn't really in a good mood that day, which caused Harry to heighten up his already building temper. It took him seven tries before the fat lady accepted his password.

Ron and Hermione caught up with him but didn't dare to talk to him. They watched him strode into the common room and run his way up the stairs to their dorm room.

Ron slouched at the empty couch in front of the fireplace. He seemed to be thinking deeply but the truth is… he wasn't. Hermione sat beside him, retrieved a parchment and quill from her bag and pretended to be writing something. They were silent for quite some time.

"She's an old bag," Ron said.

"Who? Parkinson?" Hermione asked in an inquisitive tone.

"Yeah, I wonder what she did to poor Harry. He's acting weird," he said, rolling his eyes to the general direction of the boys' dorm.

"We shouldn't get ahead of ourselves Ron," she stated. "Yes, she's a Death Eater spawn and maybe she's up to no good but we should study this case in different angles. Let's just wait and watch from a safe distance before we take any precautionary action."

"I guess your right, but are you sure we should be meddling with Harry's life like this?" he asked.

"It's for his own good, Ron," she explained.

~*~*~

Pansy was sitting alone in a dim lit part of the Slytherin common room. Every part of the dungeon is bedecked with green, black and silver, which keeps reminding her of the dark-haired wizard with amazing emerald eyes. She tried to think about something else, but his enthralling gaze keeps flashing in her memory. She tried to close her eyes and clear her mind, but she finds no cure to what she's feeling. '_It was just a simple sharing, a small talk, a small understanding…_' she convinced herself. She needed a friend. She needed someone strong enough to light the growing darkness within her. She needed someone who would listen to her when she's talking, someone who would scold her when she did something wrong, yell at her if needed. She needed someone who would lead her back to her track whenever she went astray. She needed someone to share tears and laughter. She needed someone who will understand. And for her, Harry was the only one capable of these things.

She knew Harry since their first year. They're not friends, actually far from that. Even from afar, she had seen him stand for his friends and fight for what he believes. He's not that bad, but she did not like him. He seemed arrogant and so above of himself. She hates that he's famous. She's not jealous of his status but it keeps the distance between them even farther. She's just someone from the background, finding shelter amidst her peers. He's always the item of gossips and tittle-tattles, and she hates that. She hated talking about him.

She knew Harry would understand her. She knew all along, even with his tough and radiant exterior, that he's lonely. She can see suffering in his eyes even from afar, but he always stand tall for others. He's her only chance. And thanks to his stupidity, he heard a part of her heart. He saw her eyes. And he gave her a faint light in her dark tunnel of a life.

"How's your date with Saint Scar-head?" an arrogant voice hook her out of her thoughts.

"Mind your own business Draco!" she scoffed.

Draco Malfoy walked slowly towards the couch where Pansy was sitting. His pale face emerged from the shadows followed by his two loyal dogs, Grabbe and Goyle. Their footsteps were sharp and distracting, echoing eerie clatters in the almost empty dungeon

"A little defensive are we?" he sneered, followed by a chorus of laughter from his minions.

She glared scornfully at the pale boy with silvery blond hair in front of her. "Just get yourself and your pigs away from me. I would prefer to talk to the walls than to spend time with incompetent little puppies such as you lot."

Draco's expression became grim. He eyed her with peril but she did not flinch, instead she looked him in the eyes with a more menacing glare.

"Let's go!" he motioned Crabbe and Goyle to back away. "I'll cage you once you're tied to me, remember that," he said, his voice a little louder then a whisper. He flaunted a smiled at her with malevolence still present in his grey eyes, before he turned back and leave.

Pansy breathed a sigh of relief once Malfoy and his minions were out of sight. She stood up and strode her way out of the common room. She decided to take a stroll around the lake to shake her anger away. A beautiful Saturday morning shouldn't be wasted with the likes of Draco and his gang.

~*~*~

Harry was in deep thought. He laid his back on his neatly done bed, his hands tucked behind his head. The room was empty since it's a sunny Saturday morning. Everyone's out to enjoy their weekend, lured by the warmth to laze outside. '_I should be happy! At least I made a new friend_,' he convinced himself, but he still can't believe that his best friends are smothering him. He knew there would be conflicts. He knew that it would be hard for people to understand that he's friends with the Slytherin Princess. But of all people, he expected his two best friends would understand him better.

'_They're better than this_,' he said repeatedly in his mind.

Harry startled as the door to their room opened and banged hard on the wall. Dean and Seamus were laughing together, pushing each other jokingly as they entered the room. Neville followed close behind. He was holding a pot of a whistling rose-like plant.

Neville was the first to notice him there. "Hey Harry what are you doing here? Hermione and Ron are just downstairs."

"I know Nev, I'm just resting here," he replied flatly.

Dean and Seamus stopped laughing and looked at him with a hint of surprise in their eyes.

"Resting, you say?" Dean asked sarcastically.

"You're wasting the sun mate! Go out there," Seamus told him gleefully as he dove to his bed. "Oh," he added, "How does it feel to be stuck with that awful little pug-faced snake?"

Harry hid his annoyance. He clutched his robe until his knuckles were as white as Hedwig. He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to yell at his room mates.

"Maybe the bitch treated him roughly, and that… that's the reason he's spending the day in bed," Dean laughed then Seamus tagged along.

"Glad you're back without a missing body part Harry," Neville said hesitantly, without even looking at Harry.

'_That's it! I'm out of here!_' Harry stood up and launched himself towards the door without saying a word. He banged the door behind him and rushed his way out of the suffocating hell hole.

"That was cranky," Seamus said, and the two other boys just nodded with confusion clouding their faces.

~*~*~

Harry was angry. He never felt this way before since Sirius passed away at the end of his fifth year. Every inch of him burns. His veins are throbbing violently and it's not a good feeling. It is hard to control and it hurts him so much to contain it inside. He wanted to shout. He wanted to release all the negative energy within his system.

He was literally stomping as he treaded the empty corridors of Hogwarts. He can hear the echoes of his footsteps. It's not that loud but it seemed deafening. Between each thud, he can hear different voices, unintelligible but condemning in tone. He heard his parents, Sirius, Cedric, and even Voldemort. He had too much and it's making him insane. His scar felt like it was being traced by a chisel. The pain was concentrated and excruciating.

He looked around, wanting to see something to distract him. He tried to focus on the bricks on the wall, the stone tiles on the floor and even to unlit torches, but it didn't help. Everything around him seemed black and white. He can't focus on anything because of the weird sounds he was hearing.

"Air…" he muttered. He pounded his chest hard as he fought for air. His eyes went wild as sweat covered his then pale face. He can't breathe. The black parts of the monotonous world he sees around him began to dense up, eating the white parts between them. He's blacking out.

He mustered every ounce of strength he got and ran towards the only light source he can see. He ran for his sanity… he ran to save himself from the darkness devouring him from the inside.

Once he reached the open, he collapsed into the grass. Faced down, panting and wheezing, he tried to catch his breath. He's still cold and slightly shivering. He forced himself to roll, so he can see the light blue sky. Everything's still spinning, swirling wildly. He pulled out his wand. With his quivering hand, he pointed it straight to the clear sky. He gathered every happy memory he can remember. From the time Hagrid rescued him from his 'relatives,' the image of his parents from the Mirror of Erised, the faces of his friends, and his little moment with the Slytherin Princess, he conjured a Patronus Charm. It was wordless, but it was the most powerful he had ever conjured.

A colossal phoenix, shimmering in silver and blue, had materialized from the tip of his holly. It has approximately four-meter wing span. It flew around him, the humming of the wind around it and each flap of its majestic wings emulates a soft melody. He can't believe it was his. For all he knew, he had a stag as his Patronus. But it doesn't matter at that moment. He felt better. He can feel his body now… he can feel the warm ground beneath him. No more voices… no more weird sounds. He felt his mind at ease. His lips curled up faintly into a radiant smile as he fell asleep.

_tbc..._

AN: Thanks for the reviews. This is actually my first fan fiction so I'll appreciate everything from you guys. I'll post the next chapter/s in a day or two. I'm still working on some parts of the story but I've already penned five chapters. I'll just re-read chapters 3-5, check them for spelling and grammar and if everything went well, I'll post them asap. I will be busy in the next few weeks but I'll try to post one or two chapters per week. Later! -Grim


	3. Chapter 3: Between Light and Darkness

Disclaimer:

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note:

Here's the third installment of my HP/PP fanfic. Read and Review. Enjoy!

**Chapter 3: Between Light and Darkness**

Pansy was sauntering in the empty corridor. It's lonely and cold even though she can feel the sunlight kissing her pale skin. She quickened her pace, hoping that no one else would find the lake interesting today.

She was nearing the exit when she saw a figure lying feebly on the grass-covered ground. Curiosity brought her running towards the body, and saw a familiar face. He looked serene, breathing steadily under the dancing rays of sun. She knelt on his right side and shook him out of his slumber.

"Harry… Harry… Wake up! Are you alright?"

"Pans?" he asked wincing as he straightened his skew-whiffed glasses.

"You're mental! You're sleeping here on the ground in the broad daylight?" a frown emerging from her worried face. "What's gotten into you?"

Harry grimaced then flashed a wretched smile. "Well… uhm… I'm just a little under the weather today," he reasoned.

"That's an unacceptable explanation you prat!" she exclaimed, now standing up. "Now, get up and fix yourself." She whirled around and looked away while dusting her knee-length black skirt.

Harry stood up slowly, brushing the blades of grass from his white shirt and dark brown trousers. "I'm sorry, you had to see me like that," he mumbled as he ran his fingers through his unruly raven-black hair.

"Will you please stop being sorry about everything!" she said with a half-annoyed-half-amused tone. She turned to him and walked slowly to face him in arm's length. She raised her hand and carefully brushed a stray blade of grass away from his right brow. "You should see Madam Pomfrey," she said softly.

"Nah, I'm fine. Thank you," he told her, hiding the blush forming across his face. "By the way, why are you here? Everyone's enjoying the sun while they can. The chilling breeze would sooner or later lead the snow down."

"Oh, maybe we have the same reason not to go mingling with the crowd," she answered wittily.

"I guess… uhm… yeah, yeah…," he said smiling at her awkwardly.

She spun and walked towards the direction of the lake. Harry just stood there looking at her with wonder, shaking his head lightly. Pansy glanced back and yelled at him, "Are coming or not?"

Harry followed her in a slightly limply gait, wearing a wide grin.

He watched her silently from a pace behind, tracing her steps, coloring the direction she takes. Her scent trails ribbons of sweetness in the air, blending with the freshness of the greens. She's exceptional. Unlike other girls, she has always been confident around him… never falters. Other girls would probably lose themselves giggling and would just blush their thoughts out. Pansy's different, she's always in control, and that makes her an annoying enemy. He can still remember how a girl in her petite frame would drain the precious blood out of him with just bleeding naked words.

A smile crept up his lips. '_I like it better this way._'

She led him into a lushly green spot a few yards away from the lake. They had a perfect view of the imposing castle resting over a submissive hill. Lilac field bindweeds highlight the greens. Willowherbs and thistles sway likes shimmering magic dusts beneath the castle's shade, animating Hogwart's mighty bulwarks. It's an awe-inspiring scene.

They sat silently on a blanket of grass, enjoying their proximity. As close to nature and the wilderness as they were, her demeanor never wavered. Sitting lazily in the grass under the mid-day sun, her decorum had made her look like slouching in her own emerald throne, effortlessly majestic. She's a princess. She always was.

He looked at her with unblemished admiration. He smiled at how the wind plays with her short black hair that barely reaches her slender shoulders. She shifted anxiously upon his gaze.

Lightly brushing her hair away from her face, she said softly, "I never liked my hair," as if she knew what Harry was thinking.

"Why not? It's gorgeous!"

"I don't know, maybe because it's just a part of a charade. I look meaner in this, you see," she said, smiling mischievously as she run her slender fingers through her hair.

Harry chortled, "I think you should grow your hair now, 'coz you're completely out of character." He stopped as he caught her glaring daggers at him.

"What?" she asked with an arched eyebrow demanding for a plausible answer.

"Uhmn… well, being with me completely ruins your character right?" he explained, smiling at her sheepishly.

She did not answer him back. She just looked away and nodded. It is odd to be with him of all people. It's a little awkward because of where they've been. They used to be standing in the opposite sides of the world. Darkness and light… black and white… They're risking too much as they drift in the area between.

"Harry…"

"Yes Pans?"

"It's a bit awkward, I know. Everything happened so fast… I-I still can't believe we can be like this. It's a little funny, really," her eyes strayed away from his. "Honestly I can't even look into your eyes without seeing what I used to see in you. I don't know but you still annoy me in some way," she said as she teasingly shriveled her eyes, gesturing as if she's going to crush him with her hands as she said the latter.

"Same here, Pansy. I hated you too, remember? And I'm the one in the goody-goody side, not you. I should be more annoyed to be with you" he replied in a smirk.

"I still can't stand how huge your head is, you know that?" she said mockingly.

He sniggered. "What if we don't have a bitter history? Do you think we'll be able to get along?"

Pansy raised an inquisitive brow, "I have no idea."

"Close your eyes," he commanded briskly.

"What? Why would I do that?" she responded impatiently.

"Don't worry. I'll close my eyes too. Let's try to converse without seeing each other. I was thinking… maybe it would help us adjust," he said, smiling weakly. "Uhmn… maybe setting our pasts aside and breaking the wall of prejudice down would help… you know…"

"Like starting all over?" she asked, smiling mischievously as a hint of sarcasm glistened her blue eyes.

"Why are you smiling like that?" he asked as he ran his fingers through his messy hair.

Pansy laughed. "I just… I never thought you would think of something like that. It's so childish. Well… doesn't matter. It suits you."

"Yeah, right!"

"Maybe we can just scratch the prejudice out. Yep… I think that one will work. But… we can't just set the past aside Mr. Potter. It's not that easy, it's already a part of us… of who we are."

"I understand," he replied in defeat.

"So what do we do?" she asked, grinning at him.

"Huh?" Harry scratched his head lightly, showing how confused he was.

"I'm closing my eyes. Where should we start? Names?" she stated playfully.

"I-I thought you don't like the idea? It's childish right?"

"Who said I did not like the idea? It's childish, yes, but it wasn't that bad. It's worth a try," convincing him with a sweet smile.

They both closed their eyes, grabbing the slim possibility to get along and learn more about each other. They talked about everything under the sun, laughing and enjoying the new found friendship.

"Okay. Since I'm a girl, you should ask me first."

"Say, what's your favorite color?" Harry asked.

"What kind of question is that?" she snorted.

"Just asking…"

"Are you serious? Is that how you talk to girls Harry; you'd ask for her favorite color? That's pathetic mister!"

Harry can feel the rush of warmth reaching the collar of his shirt. "Er… I'm not really that… you know… into talking to girls. It's not really my thing."

Pansy fought hard not to laugh. "That's obvious. Well, moving on, I like pink. And why do you ask? It's pretty much irrelevant."

"All information counts, Pans. It may be useful in the future, you know."

"If you say so," she huffed. "My turn! Uhmn… is there something between you and Granger?"

"Hermione's my best friend. She's like a sister to me and I like it that way," he grinned, even though Pansy can't see that he grinned.

'_Good_' Pansy smiled inwardly. "How about with Weasley? Is there something between the two of you?"

"It's my turn, remember? And stop that Parkinson, it's not funny."

"Spoilsport!" she retorted.

"I'm not!"

"Yes you are!"

"Just shut up, I'll ask you another question. This one's better. Uhmn… what's your favorite flower?"

"Oh come on! You can do better than that Potter! You're wasting your turn for stupid questions!"

"It's my turn Pansy and you don't have a say about that. Just answer it."

"Okay… okay…. Tulips," she answered.

"That's a flower from the lily family right?"

"Yes and you just wasted one of your turns, silly!"

"What? That's not fair! I protest! There's no existing rule that forbids me from asking side questions."

"Fine! You're a crybaby, you know that?"

"No, I don't know that and you just asked me a question." Harry tittered. "My turn!"

"How Slytherin of you, Harry," she sneered. "At least your little brain is slightly improving."

Harry snorted. He doesn't know how he should react. Should he be flattered by that comment of should he get back at her? But considering the nature and tone of the comment and the fact that Pansy Parkinson was the one who said it, it could be more inclined to be a positive comment than negative.

They chatted and bantered back and forth, completely ignoring the fast ticking time. They talked for hours, from simple things to more sensitive matters.

"Uhmn… Aren't you scared?" she asked. Her voice was soft but firm. She looked at him intently, waiting for him to answer.

They both did not notice that it's been long since they jumped out of their childish 'blind-talk'. The thick wall of awkwardness between them had collapsed, and they still aren't aware of it. They just felt more at ease within their newly discovered propinquity.

"Honestly, I am," he turned his eyes to her. "I am always scared. Everyday, every hour, every minute, every second… Fear had found a shelter in me. I am afraid that Voldemort would win this bloody war. I am afraid that I am not strong enough to protect the people I love. I fear that tomorrow would be my last. You could even be the last face I will see," he laughed softly under his breath, tilting his head upward. "I am afraid that more people would suffer. I am afraid that my life wouldn't be enough to deliver this world from evil. I am afraid that Sirius' death wouldn't be the last. I am afraid that everyone I love will be taken away from me."

Pansy felt the weight the scrawny boy beside her has been carrying all his life, and she hated that. She hates the fact that their world left a huge responsibility to a young man who was supposed to be living a normal life.

"I'm destined to live everyday of my life in fear as long as Voldemort lives."

"But why Harry, why would you give your life for this cause? Why you? Why should you throw yourself away? I know Potters have quite a fortune. You could just enjoy yourself and let others with more experience deal with this matter." She stared blankly to the direction of the castle. "Can't Professor Dumbledore do something about Voldemort and his minions? He's the most powerful wizard of this age after all," she moved closer and knelt before him, holding his hands firmly.

"Have you heard of the Prophecy?" he asked solemnly.

"What Prophecy?" Confusion clouded her blue eyes.

He locked his emerald eyes into her sapphires, piercing deep into her soul. She didn't have to prove herself or say anything, for Harry knew that he can trust her completely. Her blue eyes told him everything.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..." he stated flatly as his eyes became dull and inanimate.

"What? And the 'one' stated in the prophecy was you?" she asked wide-eyed in surprise and perplexity.

Harry nodded, "And this prophecy costs my parents' lives." He lowered his head as he gently closed his eyes.

"Why are you telling me all of this? You barely know me Harry," she wondered.

"I trust you Pansy, don't ask why. I just do."

Pansy slowly stood up, straightening the black skirt and the white long sleeve button down shirt she donned. "I still don't get it, you're entrusting your life to me Harry! Do you understand that? This is serious!" her eyes were unfocused, searching his face for answers. "We were once enemies and you'll just throw something worth your head just like that? You're really not into thinking are you?"

"I don't know Pansy. I'm not really in control of what's happening. What happened last night surprised me. I've always looked at you differently… Yes, you're mean, you're cold and heartless, definitely smug and egomaniac, you despised everyone in school except your own house, you hated everyone not pure in blood… but… but there's something in your eyes that tells me there's more than just the cold Pansy Parkinson. A huge part of who you are is hidden deep inside you… the real Pansy… and I'd really want to know her." He reached for her hand as he rose up from where he sat.

"I am still the Pansy Parkinson you knew. All of those negative things you've said, that's me Harry. That's who I am… that's how I was raised. I was born a pureblood, raised by purebloods. I don't really care about the people around me, I only care about myself. I am selfish. I am a Slytherin. Listen to me! I am not… I… You can't trust me!" she said firmly, summoning all her strength to hold her tears.

Harry did not say a word. He just watched her as the wind blew her bangs up. She looked different without them, her face was angelic, a perfect picture of innocence. A shadow of sadness and remorse stole the face where bliss should be painted.

"Forget yesterday Harry. Forget what I said. Forget me. We shouldn't be like this. It just complicates everything… I know you can see that. We're from two different worlds. You stand by the light and I am floating in darkness. Let's just stop this before it gets worse." Tears streamed down her alabaster skin. She took her hand away from his grasp, drifting her eyes away to nowhere.

Harry smiled at her warmly. He carefully brushed her tears using his thumb and held her shoulders steadfastly. "You're not selfish Pansy. You have proven it just now. You thought about what will happen if this goes on. You considered the possibilities of what will happen to me and to the people around you," he said, his hope-filled eyes twinkled as he fixed them to her.

"Look at me Pans," he pleaded. She raised her sapphire eyes and met his emeralds. "I don't have an idea of what lies ahead, but I don't plan to back down. I may not know where to go from here but I'm willing to take the risks. I can walk in the dark," Pansy stiffened as he traced the contour of her hair with his gentle touch while he maintained eye contact. "I am completely aware of who's in front of me right now. You're Pansy Parkinson. I know who you were and I think I know who you'll become. You have a heart Pansy, just like everyone else. Don't be afraid to show it. You're often misunderstood, but you know yourself better than anyone. You know where you stand."

"But -" she tried to voice her sentiments out but was cut off by Harry's lips. A sigh escaped her faintly shaking lips as he eased her closer to him. He brushed his lips gently against hers. Pansy felt his steady breathing, creating ripples of inexplicable sensation throughout her body. She closed her eyes and languidly raised her hands, circling them around his neck. She doesn't know where fate would take them from that moment for time seemed to stop. She had never felt anyone cared for her like how Harry does. She can feel it… it's enveloping her. His lips melted into hers… he kissed her in abandon, and she kissed him back.

Pansy pulled herself away and kissed his cheek tenderly.

Harry wrapped her with his strong arms. "I will help you whether you like it or not. You won't be floating in the darkness forever, Pans. I will be your light. And if our worlds would resent us, we'll create our own."

~*~*~

Harry lay sluggishly in his flat, spinning his wand in his fingers. His things were all over the place. The white shirt he just wore was hung unceremoniously on his lampshade. His hooded jumper was dumped above his telly. He had moved the center table in his living room and was spread like a rug in his cold granite floor. It's been hours since he arrived from King's Cross and he hadn't moved since then.

He was deep in thought. A lot of things have changed but he misses his old self, his old life, everything. He misses it all… badly. But there's nothing he can do. He's still in his little runaway world. A world he never desired to have.

A knock on the door broke his twirling thoughts. He looked around his flat and breathed a long suffering-sigh before tucking his wand away. "Come in!" he yelled.

"What a mess! Is this a pig pen?"

"Wotcher Bob!" jerking his head up as he grinned mischievously.

"What a slacker! Get up and make yourself useful." Bob exclaimed, as he jumped into the couch.

"Look who's talking," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"What's new?"

"Nothing," Harry answered matter-of-factly.

"You know mate, you need a girl here. This place is becoming a big pile of rubbish," he implied with a lopsided smile.

"I don't think so… Maybe you're the one who needs a girl so you'll not bug me anymore. You need to be occupied mate," he said in a smirk.

"Okay. I'll get one tomorrow," he snorted.

Harry laughed as he sat up. "Hey Bob…"

"Yeah?" he responded, tilting his head slightly.

"Have you ever wondered where I came from or who I was before we met?" he asked quietly.

"Of course I did. But does it matter?"

"I don't know. Maybe it does. Why didn't you ask me?" he asked, peculiarly tranquil.

"If you want to share your past, you'll share it James. We don't have to ask. You're a good man, mum and I know that. You're part of our family, and we understand." It's anomalous for Bob to be serious. He's one bulky goof-ball, but for his 'little brother' he can be sober.

"Thanks Bob," Harry said with a genuine smile. "Well, can we have dinner at your house? I'm starving."

Bob laughed. "Come on, you twit! Mum would be pleased," he motioned to the door as he stood up.

Both headed to the door. Harry grabbed a decent shirt and put it on. "Can you help me clean my flat too?"

"You wish mate!"

~*~*~

"Lion's Roar"

"You're almost late… curfew, remember?" the fat lady in pink exclaimed.

"I know, sorry… open up please," he appealed, scratching the back of his head lightly.

The fat lady let him through the door with a smug. He walked in slowly, hands tucked in his pockets, eyes on the stone floor. He did not notice how late it was until Pansy told him. They have spent more time together since that day in the lake. They're not dating – according to them - but they just have a certain understanding… something mutually necessary for both their being. They always have little fights and childish arguments but at the end of the day, they always end up in a passionate snogging conclusion.

They never admitted that they have already fallen in love with each other because love isn't really something that they have both felt or experienced before. Harry spent much of his childhood in a household where everyone hated him. No one really valued his existence, until the day he went to Hogwarts. He was abused, starved and deprived of the care he needed as a child. He was alone more than half his life, crying nightly in the comfort of his rug of a blanket as he curled inside a dark and rickety cupboard. His parents died before he could even recognize their faces, a reality that was hard for him to accept. And he went through that transition alone. He lived a life of half-lie without a hint of what love is.

On the other hand, Pansy lived her life as a princess. Being the only daughter of a prominent pureblooded family, her needs were met even before she actually needs them. Everything was spoon fed. Unlike Harry, she somehow enjoyed how she was brought up, even though her parent never really 'wanted' her. Her mother failed to bear a son after more too many miscarriages, and then she accidentally came to their life. She had everything she desired but love. Love, yeah love… that wasn't a part of bringing her up. She had always longed for that certain feeling a little princess should feel from her parents, but she wasn't able to get a hold it... feel it. She always hears them saying the 'love' word, but she can't feel it. They're always away. She can only talk to them through floo. She was constantly left in their manor with just maid servants and house elves, but even from afar, they still have strings attached to her, for she has always been their adorable little puppet, raised to bring more glory to the 'family' in proxy for the absence of a male heir.

Love was new to them. They've been feeling this atypical tingle every time they were together, a foreign feeling, unexplainably overwhelming. They haven't really paid it too much recognition, but they know that it's there. There's something special about the bond they have formed between their lonely souls and they know it is worth the time and effort to protect and to sustain.

So far, with Gryffindor intrepidity and Slytherin cunningness, their secret 'understanding' has never been compromised… yet. Little did they know, two pair of eyes has always been discreetly watching them.

Harry was shocked to see Hermione standing lofty in his way to the common room. He was so much used to walk with his head down, so he had no idea that Hermione has been standing there all along. Her arms were crossed against her chest, wearing a very recognizable scowl. Her bushy hair was tied brusquely. She was glaring at him with her hazel orbs glazed with contempt. Ron was seating idly at the couch facing the fireplace. He doesn't look as furious as Hermione but his eyes were full of disdain. He looked at Harry scathingly as he shook his head.

"You have some explaining to do, Harry!" she fumed.

"What are you talking about?" he asked. He was confused but he had an insinuation of where this conversation would lead. He turned his eyes to Ron for some elucidation, but Ron just shook his head.

"We tried not to pry Harry, but this has to stop!" she exclaimed with disappointment traceable in her voice.

"I don't understand. Can you please go straight to your point Hermione?" He said, sounding impatient, feeling a twitch of annoyance within him.

Hermione pitched a quick look at Ron and nodded. Ron stood up, comprehending what Hermione meant. He toddled towards Hermione, standing beside her with hands balled behind him. "You and Parkinson, mate. You should stop it before it gets any further."

"What? How-" Harry was quite startled by what Ron said. He knew someone would see them together somehow sooner or later but he did not expect Ron and Hermione would be the first ones to notice.

"It's been three weeks since that incident in our Potion's class. Thenceforth, you have been constantly out of your usual self. Yes, you have been a little more upbeat and buoyant. We're happy that you were, but we learned that you have been spending the time you're not here with Pansy Parkinson. That's bothersome, Harry!" Hermione bickered. "You know that she can't be trusted!"

"Here we go again…" Harry whispered to himself. "You're really unbelievable. She's my friend. Why don't you guys give her a chance to prove herself? She's not what you think she is!"

"Friend?" she replied in a quizzical look.

Ron contained his laughter. "Friend, huh? I didn't know friends snog in the shadows. That's rich mate!" Ron said, eyeing him sarcastically.

"Have you been spying on me?" Harry asked scornfully, looking back and forth at his two best friends.

"Like I said Harry, we didn't mean to pry, but do you still know where you're standing? Do you know what's happening around? Do you know who you are with? We're at war, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, slightly raising her voice.

"I know! I am fully aware of where I am, what's happening around me, and who I am with! I know that I'm in the middle of this war more than anyone else!"

Ron inched forward and grasped Harry's shoulders tightly. "Listen to me Harry. You can't trust that Slytherin whore. She could be working with You-Know-Who. She could be after your head – that sneaky little snake. Getting rid of you is easy once she gets your trust!"

"First of all, she's not a whore!" he bellowed, glaring fiercely at Ron. "I'm seventeen, for Merlin's sake! I'm old enough to make my own decisions and live my life according to what I want. I never wanted to be smothered nor manipulated by other people, you know that!" he shook his head in disappointment, pressing his right hand over his scar. "I have never expected that the two of you, of all people, would do this to me!" Harry shoved Ron's hands away and walked towards the fireplace. He slumped by the inglenook, burying his face in his calloused palms.

"We're just concerned Harry! We're doing this to help you!" Hermione followed him and knelt beside him. She tried to comfort Harry by placing her hand on his anger-shaken shoulder but he brushed it off.

"To help me?" He laughed derisively. "I'll tell you now, you're not helping!" he looked them in the eyes. His emerald eyes were screaming with anger twirled with hurt. "I know you meant well. But you're not doing this for me! You're doing this because you hate Pansy!"

Ron and Hermione were deadpan and silent. "I know it's hard for you to accept her, but please… please trust me on this. I now what I'm doing. She needs me… and I need her. Please… just give it a rest," he pleaded as he stood up, making his way to their dorm room.

"You don't understand Harry!" Hermione tried to stop him but failed.

Ron seized her, wrapping an arm around her. "Think about it mate, she may not be who you think she is. Just be careful," he said softly, just enough for Harry to hear it.

"Just shut it, please… " Harry hissed through gritted teeth. "G'night!"

Harry climbed the stairs while clutching his forehead. His scar burns like hell. An excruciating pain perforated through the scar, emanating unbearably throughout his body. Everything around him suddenly faded to black. All he could remember was a loud screech, probably Hermione, before he passed out.

~*~*~

Two hundred miles away, a ghastly scream petered out the silence of the mid-October night. It echoed through out the land causing an outburst of horror and fear. The unearthly agonizing scream came from an old manor, an eerie house situated in a clearing amidst the almost deserted village of Little Hangleton.

An assembly of black-hooded figures half-heartedly stood around a man coiled before his black throne. Half of them were shaking in fear, mentally disturbed by the sudden burst of agony and raw power. Half were slightly shuddering yet maintained their demeanor.

A lady in long black and grey robe dropped to her knees and crawled to where the man lies. He was pressing his heaving chest hard; his lean and pale fingers were almost buried in it. The hooded lady checked for the vitals of the man breathing heavily before her. His body was cold as ice. His veins were visible in his paper-white scaly skin. His face was inhuman. His red eyes were wide open, blank and malevolent. Despite the intensity of pain radiating from his chest, his features were still unfathomably evil.

The lady let down her hood. Slowly as the dim torch-lights danced across to where dark shadows once crept, she revealed her messy waist-length black hair. Her flawless porcelain skin glowed at the moment the light devoured the shadows. Her bloodshot eyes were unwavering. Her full lips, dark as ember parted slightly as she breathes out the worried air from her trembling chest. Her dark brown orbs were focused on the horridly twisted figure of her master.

"My Lord," whispering from a foot away from the curled up man. Her voice was soft but the containment of the chamber they were in made it sharp and creepy. "What's happening my Lord?"

He gestured her to back off, waving his hand heatedly. She complied without any word. She crawled back, her head bowed low, almost kissing the floor.

"Bring me Severus!" he hissed as he gathered his strength to stand up. Two figures wearing white masks appeared from the shadows behind his throne. They assisted him and seated him back.

"Yes, my Lord," she answered obsequiously, bowing her head lower before standing up. She waded through the sea of black-hooded figures. She was a yard away from the gridded oak door when it swung open, revealing the silhouette of Severus Snape.

"Bellatrix," he said gravely as he nodded at her.

"Severus," she raised a skeptical brow as she let him pass. "The Dark Lord requires your presence."

Severus Snape strode towards the Dark Lord's throne. Lord Voldemort was in an unusual stoop. He was still breathing heavily, clutching the armrest of his black throne. Snape held his chin high as he passed through his fellow Death Eaters protruding his hooked nose. His black eyes were glazed with restlessness. His black cloak undulates behind him rhythmically in each stride.

The Dark Lord's blazing snake-eyes were directed at him. He shuddered helplessly as he felt his piercing glare. He was like an injured mouse, marching to an outstretched mouth of a hungry snake. He bowed before him, kissing the hem of his robe. His long greasy hair was pooled on the cold marble floor for he never lifted his head from a low bow.

"My Lord," he said in a trembling voice.

"It occurred again Severus," fisting the part of his robe covering his chest. "Brew a more potent potion. I need my strength back before the end of the month," he hissed against his lipless mouth.

"Yes, my Lord," he replied, mustering everything he got just to straighten up his voice.

Bellatrix stepped forward from the crowd of Death Eaters. She bowed down before her Lord. "I suspect the Potter boy has something to do with this my Lord," she voiced out.

Voldemort snarled. His angry red eyes flared with bursting malice. "You think I don't know that, servant?" Like a snake striking its prey, he snapped to his feet and wrapped his scaly hand around Bellatrix Lestrange's neck. The distance between them was clear and far enough, but Bellatrix did not even see the Dark Lord coming. The yards between them have been closed in just a flicker. Panting from the intensity of the pain he felt in his hollow chest, he hissed a whisper into her ears as he scraped his wand down to her porcelain face, "If you do not have anything good to say servant, it is better to keep that filthy mouth of yours shut!"

Breathing heavily as the Dark Lord's claw-like lean fingers dug deep into her throat, she muttered in a cracked voice, "I'm sorry my Lord." Fear emanates from her misty eyes. Fear is a word not normally found in her dictionary. She's bloody Bellatrix Black-Lestrange for Merlin's sake, one of the Dark Lord's trusted servants, a part of his prestigious inner circle, the most feared witch in the entirety of the Wizarding world. But her demeanor and imposingly confident bearing bends before her master. Even if she loves pain and suffering, even if death was like water in her daily routine, there's nothing that can make her feel fear, in a level that her heart shudders and seems to corrode, except for the Dark Lord. She respects him as the most powerful Dark Lord in all of history, as the lord of dark magic and the key to the rise of the purebloods.

Voldemort did not seem to hear what Bellatrix had said. He tightened his grip, like a snake constricting its prey to death. A trail of blood slithered down Bellatrix's pale face from her temple, where her master's wand thrusts.

None of the Death Eaters moved. Not even Rodolfus, Bellatrix's husband. No one made a sound except for one. Severus Snape.

"My Lord!" he bellowed, drawing his wand from where it was stowed. His booming voice silenced the whole chamber. Even the crickets and the frogs on choir and the rustling leaves… they all were silenced. Everything else after than seemed to be a blur. Everything happened so fast. All those who witnessed the scenario saw a red flare escaped the tip of Severus' wand then in a split second, a loud thud was heard from the wall across the chamber. And there, an almost lifeless Bellatrix Lestrange lay.

The Dark Lord was startled when the woman, whose throat he was about to rip, suddenly slipped from his grip and got thrown away across the room. He was certain that she will die in his hands. A lowly servant, she is and she's not worthy to stand in his proximity for she spoke of something he doesn't want to hear. He knew that the Potter boy had something to do with what had happened to him. He doesn't know how he did it, but it must not happen again. Whatever the boy was doing is working against him. He knows somehow that in that condition, he's on the losing end. And that is not acceptable. The mere sound of the boy name boils his blood. It fries his brain and it makes him want to kill everyone around him. He's a generous and merciful lord; that's what he says to his servants. But that bloody tart, Lestrange, mentioned what he despised to hear. The name of the boy who had inflicted agony and horrendous pain into the god he was.

A limp form of the most feared witch the Wizarding world has ever seen now rests defenseless in a cold corner of the main chamber of the Riddle Mansion. She did not even know what hit her but the strange thing is that there was a visible curl in her bloodied lips. She has this strange little smile which is quite weird considering that she almost got herself killed. The Dark Lord was about to rip her head off with his bare hands. Maybe she's just insane. No one can smile in the brink of their own demise. Maybe it's honor she felt, that her death would be on the hands of her beloved master.

Lord Voldemort, still shocked after what happened, turned to where the spell came from. His eyes were almost bleeding out in redness. His lipless mouth was twitching in a weird way that it exposes his gritted teeth. He's obviously raging in relentless fury.

The sea of hooded men parted in the middle, revealing the man who performed the hex. He still held his stance. He was standing straight, one foot slightly in front of the other, his wand pointed slightly downward like a rapier held for fencing.

"Severus! You lowlife!" the Dark Lord roared, pointing his wand at the greasy-haired professor. "Crucio!"

A jagged jet of red light hit Severus Snape square in the chest. He fell instantly, face first on the hard stone floor. The pain was excruciating. He was used to the feeling of being in the bitter end of the Cruciatus but the curse from the Dark Lord himself was far from intolerable, it's indescribably beyond pain. He gnashed his teeth causing his gums to bleed as the pressure he's exerting to the base of his teeth was colossal. The feeling of having thousands of molten knives piercing through your flesh simultaneously and in constancy would instantly make anyone insane, but Severus was a master Occlumence and that kept him from crossing the line to insanity.

The rest of the Death Eaters watched in horror as their master poured his anger to the Potions master. All were shaking, some almost peed their pants. All of their attention was set to the man curled up on the floor, ignoring the limped woman on the far side of the chamber.

The Cruciatus curse was never lifted… it was almost ten minutes and the Dark Lord has been putting forth a power of unrelenting constancy to his curse. Severus Snape could die in any second. His brain could have possibly been fried already.

Snape's world was spinning like a whirlwind. Everything in his sight was turning black except for the red jagged light. He can feel his lungs were almost at the precipice of exploding for he held in his agony. He never shouted out the pain he was feeling. He held it inside except for the groans and the wheezing.

Then, after an almost eternity of torture, Lord Voldemort lifted the curse. He turned his back to his floored servant and walked slowly back to his throne. He left him eating a mixture of dirt, sweat and blood. The lowly man was curled in a ball on the icy floor panting for dear life.

He slumped back to his black throne. Lazily holding his wand between his thumb and his index finger, he pointed it to Severus Snape. He tilted his wand a few degrees upward and the panting man was levitated to almost six feet above the ground. "What the bloody hell was that Severus?" he hissed.

Snape was struggling to speak, he was almost running out of air and his voice hardly came out. "M-my L-lord…" he whispered breathlessly.

"W-we need her to execute our plan m-my Lord... we can't risk a valuable turning point of our cause with her untimely d-demise," he stuttered explaining his action. "I decided to step up because you we're in rage and you would kill her."

"I admire your bravery, my little servant," he hissed as stowed his wand away. "I am a considerate and merciful Lord, and I understand what you did… but I can not tolerate how you crossed me."

"Lucius!" he yelled. Lucius Malfoy emerged from the crowd of Death Eaters and bowed down before the Dark Lord. "Enervate Bellatrix and order her to bring Severus to the torture chamber. She knows what to do."

"Yes my Lord." Lucius strode to where Bellatrix Lestrange lay and enervated her. He whispered to her ear and walked back to where he was standing before he was summoned by his master.

Bellatrix Lestrange stood up like nothing happened. She just brushed the dirt from her black and grey robe and tucked stray locks of hair behind her ears. Wearing a wicked smile in her face, she limply walked down to the levitated body of Severus Snape. She bowed low to Lord Voldemort, put out her wand and carried on levitating Severus Snape towards the dungeon.

Lucius Malfoy closed the huge oak door behind them and proceeded to what the night's assembly was about.

He stood before the other Death Eaters, his long platinum blond hair curtained his elongated face. He stood sophisticatedly; living up the name he holds as the head of the most prominent pureblooded family. He eyed the vastness of the crowd and turned to his master, who gave him a nod. "We are gathered here to discuss the plans for the thirty-first. We have waited so long to claim this land back. We have waited so long to rule with the glory of our names. We will cleanse this stinking world from mudbloods once and for all," he proclaimed.

The rest of the Death Eaters cheered at his words. "Two groups led by me and Bellatrix will simultaneously attack two locations which will not be named until the night of the attack. Portkeys will be distributed by Conrad Parkinson after this assembly is over. All portkeys will be activated three minute before the thirty-first October. As always, once in battle there will be no rules."

The entirety of the dark chamber roared in merriment. Lord Voldemort, wearing a horrendous grin stood up and signaled them off. In few seconds and numerous pops and cracks, the chamber was emptied except for the Dark Lord himself, Lucius Malfoy and Conrad Parkinson and his wife Valeria.

"What's the status of the other plan?" the Dark Lord asked as he stroke Nagini with his nimble fingers.

"Everything's going well my Lord," Conrad said. "Our mole has been doing her job well. We will know what ever the boy's actions were and we'll find a way to get to the old man and his organization as well."

"Good… very good!" the Dark Lord was surprisingly on a lighter mood now considering his outrage earlier.

"I've heard from Lucius that your daughter was betrothed to his son."

"Yes my Lord," Valeria answered. "The papers were already arranged but the rite should still be performed to seal their union. We still need to wait until both of them mature magically to perform the ritual."

Voldemort hissed in delight, parting his lipless mouth into a grin. "That's good news I presume. The union of your families will serve me well. The future of the world I will create will be so much better."

"No doubt my Lord," Lucius smiled evilly at the huge part of his bloodline to the plans of the Dark Lord. "It is our pleasure to serve you my Lord."

"It is our family's honor to be a part of your great plan my Lord," Conrad and Valeria bowed their heads curtly before their master.

"You may go now," Voldemort hissed. With soft pops, the Parkinsons and Lucius Malfoy disappatared. Wearing an ever malevolent smirk, Lord Voldemort rested his back to his throne and pondered the progress of his plans.

~*~*~

"You filthy bird-brain!"

"You're welcome Bella," Snape said in a worn out voice.

"Don't call me Bella, you git! Just shut your mouth and save your strength!" she glared grimly at him as she floated him to the torture chamber.

Snape laughed weakly.

"What's funny Snape? You're lucky the Dark Lord has still some use of you and he just wants you tortured, if not, I'll kill you this very moment!" she pointed her wand away and Severus Snape fell down with a thud on the cold limestone floor of the empty hall to the dungeon.

Severus held his scream and winced in pain. "Bloody woman!"

Bellatrix turned around and waved him to follow her. "Walk! Follow me to the torture chamber."

Snape stood up slowly and followed her a few paces behind. "You almost got yourself killed there. I could not think of a better thing to do," he lowered his head and softened his tone. "I had to do what I did… you know that. I can't just let you die."

"I know," she replied in an unusually gentler voice as they both vanished into the darkness of the eerie mansion.

_tbc… _

AN: Thanks for your reviews. I am really glad you guys appreciate my effort. I never thought you would like the way I wrote the story. My mom read this fic last night and surprisingly, even though she never read any Harry Potter book, she loved it. Please continue your support and post reviews. Your words would help me a lot.

I'm done editing Chapter 4, but I'll wait for 10-20 reviews before posting it. Thank you.


	4. Chapter 4: Darkness Within

Disclaimer:

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note:

Sorry for making you wait. Read and Review. Enjoy!

**Chapter 4: Darkness Within**

It was late the next morning when the news about what had happened to the Boy-Who-Lived spread out. Rumor has it that he was poisoned. Some says he was infected by a widely spreading wizarding disease. Words were also stretched to tales about a forbidden relationship he was in that has brought an incurable condition to his heart. Some even attests to have seen him making out with a mermaid by the lake, and could have been the source of the virus deteriorating his health. Everyone seemed to enjoy exchanging their own versions of what really happened to the wonder boy. Tattles bounced back and forth, gossips echoed bluntly into the castle's walls. Harry Potter has always been and will always be a favorite in this field.

The news about Harry reached Pansy. She heard every version of the story. Some were plausible, some were a bit too exaggerated to even be funny, but some were almost sickening to consider.

Without thinking of whatever others might say, she rushed her way from the Great Hall to the Hospital Wing. She even left her breakfast untouched. She went through baffled eyes and relentlessly scandalous lips, avoiding any unnecessary interrogatory dialogue.

Pansy had no idea what could possibly hurt Harry seriously within the walls of Hogwarts and under the nose of Professor Albus Dumbledore. She was so worried about him that she had forgotten about how Slytherins should have handled things of that sort. She was the so-called Slytherin Ice Princess yet she's acting like a lost little Hufflepuff. She was completely aware of Harry's spectacularly close ties with danger and his totally-idiotic-heroisms, but there's something that sets her off.

She was aware of the consequences of being close to the Wizarding world's wonder boy. She'll forever carry the burden of being worried all the time. It's not that she doesn't trust Harry or anything, but the situation they where in was not something people go through in normalcy. He's playing a very important role in the war and anything or anyone can be a threat to his life.

Her heart was racing at the touch of the smooth wooden door of the infirmary. The corridor was awkwardly quiet. No one seemed to have visited Harry yet. She warily looked around and slowly pushed the infirmary door open. The creaking sound of the door was all that can be heard. She moved in silence, not wanting to disturb Harry if ever he was still sleeping. She eyed the row of beds before her. None of the beds were occupied except for the one covered by white curtains at the far end of the hospital wing.

She walked towards the curtained bed. She's a little nervous not knowing what to expect. She's afraid to see Harry in a very bad condition. She's in no shape to contain her emotions if ever something went worse than it could ever be. She had heard all the hearsays. Even majority of them were quite absurd, she can't help but worry.

Carefully, she waved the curtains aside. A battered image of The-Boy-Who-Lived greeted her. He was sleeping. His head was bandaged and a faint stain of blood was visible in the white gauze. A large bruise was evident in his left shoulder.

She stared at his half-naked body and shook her head with a slight trace of smile in her lips. It wasn't that bad, she thought. She ran her fingers through his tousled hair, thinking about how the bloody hell could Harry be so reckless sometimes.

"I did not expect any visitor until lunch," a voice said from a room on the other side of the infirmary.

Startled as she may be, Pansy whirled around and answered, "Sorry Madam Pomfrey."

"What business do you have here Miss…"

"Parkinson," she replied abruptly.

Madam Pomfrey nodded, raising her brow suspiciously. She was aware of who Pansy Parkinson is. She had brought in more than enough patients under her care. "Yes Miss Parkinson?" she asked, still wondering why would someone like her visit Harry Potter.

"I'm just checking on Ha-… Potter here," she answered flatly.

"I see, but I'm afraid Professor Dumbledore told me not to allow any visitors at the time being," she stated sternly.

"I understand," Pansy said, glancing back at the sleeping Harry. "What happened?"

"He had an accident. He fell down the stairs to the Gryffindor dorm room yesterday after he unexplainably fainted. He had a mild concussion and some minor bruising."

"That's stupid!" Pansy exclaimed.

"Sounds like it. But there's another factor that we have been considering. As much as I want to discuss it, the Headmaster doesn't want anyone to know it yet," she turned around and walked towards her secluded office. "You may leave now Miss Parkinson."

"Would he be okay?" she asked.

"Yes he will. The bruises will eventually heal in an hour. Just let him rest. Goodbye," Madam Pomfrey said as she walked away.

Pansy doesn't know how she would react. It would have been better if the cause of the accident was plain stupidity, but by the sound of it, there is something more.

She spared one last glance at Harry before she turned to leave.

"Don't leave," a cracked voice caught her attention.

She looked over her shoulder and saw Harry wincing as he tried to sit up. "Are you stupid or something? You're hurt! Stay down," she scolded.

"I think I'm okay," he sat up and looked at her. He's obviously sore, but he managed to flash a lopsided smile as if he's not hurt at all.

"Yeah right! You were lucky it's just your head that was injured. You don't use it anyways," she looked at him intently and smiled.

Harry laughed. "That was harsh Pans, should I cry?"

"Laugh your arse out Potter, getting hurt is not a laughing matter!" she scolded him again. But this time, an impish smile was curled up her lips.

"Oh no, don't tell me your concerned Parkinson," he teased, grinning widely at her.

Pansy covered her blush by closing the curtains between them. She can hear Harry laughing inside. "Merlin, what a head you got there Potter!" she huffed.

The door to the infirmary swung open. A bantering Ron and Hermione walked in. They were talking about something but it's almost inaudible. Ginny Weasley followed shortly. She had changed a lot from what Pansy remembered her. She's not that titchy anymore. She grew taller than Hermione and curvier too. Her beautiful fiery hair sways like dancing flames behind her. She's in her fifth year now and still single, which made Pansy wonder why Harry did not take advantage of the Weasley girl's obsession for him.

Ginny was the first to notice Pansy's presence. She narrowed her brown eyes and glared at her with disdain. "Parkinson?"

Ron and Hermione stopped at their track and looked at the unwanted visitor. Ron heatedly charged towards her but luckily, Hermione was able to grab his arm. "Stop it Ron, she's a girl!" she chided. She did not lose her firm grip to the flushed Weasley boy's arm as she looked up and glowered at Pansy. "Why are you here Parkinson?"

"I'm here to visit Harry just like you," she folded her arms across her chest and glared back defiantly.

"You have no business here Parkinson, you may leave now!" she said in a sharp tone, pointing to the door.

"Make me!" she smirked.

Fumed, Ginny clutched her wand and rushed to the Slytherin Princess.

Pansy stood her ground and eyed the approaching redhead. "Who's there Pansy?" Harry's voice caught the attention of everyone in the room.

"Just your annoying friends," she answered playfully. She's enjoying how much she gets into the heads of this bunch.

"Harry!" Ginny cried out. She stormed to the direction of the bed were Harry was, pushing Pansy on her way.

Being caught off guard, Pansy lost her footing. She whirled and fell face down, ripping the curtains on her way down to Harry's bed. She didn't know Ginny would be that strong. Maybe being wrestled by her older brothers, way back when they were younger, paid off.

Pansy gasped in surprised. Instead of a hard surface, or Harry's hospital bed at least, she landed into Harry. Her lips crashed painfully into Harry's. It wasn't really the kiss she wanted. She pulled out quickly as she felt pain stung her lower lip. It was bleeding and visibly swollen from the collision. She wasn't really hurt, thanks to Harry's reflexes.

Harry gazed into her swollen lip. His body was still aching but he somehow managed to protect Pansy from further injuries. At least it was just a swollen lip, he thought. Blood traced down her chin and dripped into the white sheets of his bed. Harry held her chin and tilted it slightly upward as he wiped the blood with his haphazardly set blanket.

Pansy stayed quiet as she let Harry do his thing. He was remarkably caring, which made her heart grew a bit bigger. She was smiling inwardly. It wasn't really bad. That kind of pain wouldn't kill her. But still she was amazed at how Harry reacted. He was genuinely concerned. It was glazed clearly in his bare emerald eyes.

Glancing at his eyes, she saw that Harry was still focused at her lips. Her heart suddenly pounded hard. She was completely aware that they were not the only people in the infirmary and they were in a very compromising position. Her eyes went unsteady, anxious of what would happen next. Her stupid heart was like beating a million times per second. She has this feeling that Harry wasn't really aware of his surroundings and who they are with. It made her more and more nervous as he felt Harry's steady breathing against her lips. Within a blink of her eyes, Harry's lips touched hers and they kissed. She closed her eyes as an amazing sensation washed every inch of her body with warmth. The kiss was light and comforting, and it took away the pain she felt in her swollen lip. Again, she was totally taken over by her emotions. The kiss deepened and its lightness became thorough with need and hunger. She has always been this vulnerable when it comes to him.

She held his arms as he cupped her cheeks. She felt his tongue tracing the warmth of her lower lip, and carefully parted her lips. She moaned softly as she met his tongue with hers and pushed it lightly back. She should be in control. She's the one aware of their position and she should pull back as soon as possible, before her brain completely seized to function.

She pulled back in no time. "Eew… that was disgusting!" she teased.

Harry sniggered. "You okay?" that was all Harry could say.

Pansy nodded and pouted her lips anxiously towards the general direction of their spectators.

"Oh," he blushed, raking his tousled hair with his fingers. Smiling sheepishly at his friends, he waved his right hand, "Hi, I'm awake."

"We can see that clearly," Ron said acerbically in a disgusted expression.

Hermione gaped in shock. She didn't even bother to cover her mouth as she gasped hard for air. She was still wide-eyed, disbelieving what she just saw. She even thought of Oliviating herself so she could just forget everything.

"Stinky piece of rubbish! Get off him, you whore!" Ginny yelled as she raised her wand. She aimed at Pansy. Anger had completely clouded her judgment. "Reducto!"

Before the curse could leave the tip of Ginny's wand, Harry had already jumped to his feet and guided Ginny's wand hand upward. The curse hit the ceiling and rubbles fell like rain.

"What was that Ginny?" he asked perplexedly. "You could have hurt her badly, you know!"

"But-…" Ginny was trying to reason out but Harry interjected. "Apologize to her Gin, she's just here to check on my condition." Harry knew Ginny wasn't in her right state of mind so he gave her a chance.

Ginny was still wide-eyed. She, herself, can't believe what she had done. Harry was right… she could have hurt her badly. She wasn't thinking. Yet, she still can't believe what she just saw. They kissed… in front of them… in front of her. She can't understand why it has to be Pansy… why not her? Tears started to glaze her brown eyes. She covered her mouth with her left hand and shook her head furiously. "No… I won't… Never!" she spun around, hiding the burst of tears, and ran towards the door.

Ron and Hermione just stood there like statues as Ginny stormed past them. They looked keenly at Harry and then to Pansy.

Harry came back to his senses as if a lightning struck him in the head. He blinked more than normal. He was now standing beside the bed while Pansy was sprawled there in shock. He glanced back at Pansy and blushed, and then he set his gaze to his still gaping friends. He can see the horror painted in their faces despite the absence of his glasses. He realized how stupid his actions were. Tasting the metallic flavor of Pansy's blood in his mouth, he took in the possible implications of what has been done and witnessed. He wasn't ready to discuss his deviant relationship with the Slytherin Princess.

"What in the name of magic was that noise!" The mediwitch scampered from her office. She glared quizzically at the teenagers before her. She darted her eyes to the girl in Harry's bed, "I thought I told you to leave Miss Parkinson…" then her questioning gaze drifted to the standing form of her patient, "Mr. Potter, would you mind explaining why you aren't resting in your bed?" Her tone was almost Molly-like.

Pansy just shrugged her shoulders and stood beside Harry. She did not say a word. Instead, a signature sneer was flashed to the mediwitch.

Harry scratched his unruly hair absently as he tried to explain the situation. "I-I'm fine Madam Pomfrey, there was just a little commotion but I think all is fine," he stammered, smiling diffidently at the school nurse.

Madam Pomfrey was unconvinced. She deliberately shook her head in disappointment and threw glances at the direction of Ron and Hermione. "And do your new visitors have something to do with this mess?" She was looking intently at the blasted ceiling and the misplaced curtains.

"No, no, it's entirely my doing. I'll fix it right away." Harry summoned his wand and it soared to his hand from Madam Pomfrey's office. In a few swishes and muttered incantations, the tore down ceiling fixed itself. The rubbles and the dusts dissolved into the air and the bed curtains flew back to their rightful places. With a smile in his still embarrassment-flushed face, he turned to the mediwitch, "All done ma'am."

"The Headmaster would hear about this Mr. Potter." She looked at Harry lazily in disappointment. "Please stay in your bed and rest for a few more hours. You can leave before dinner," she said, before turning around. "And, visitors… you know your way out."

Harry tidied his bed and sat down. "I'm sorry… I'll explain everything later," he guiltily looked at his best friends. "Don't worry, I'll talk to Ginny too."

"I bet you have a lot of explaining to do Harry James Potter!" Harry winced at the sound of his whole name from Hermione. She spun around and exited the room.

"Common room, after dinner," Ron said flatly in his anger-tinged face, and followed Hermione shortly.

"I'm so dead," Harry whispered to himself.

Pansy chuckle softly. "That was fun Harry"

"Fun? Where's the fun in that?" he frowned.

She giggled. "See you later Harry, I still have an interview to attend to," she waved her hand and winked at him humorously before striding out the infirmary.

Harry did not get what she meant by the interview but he let it go anyway. He rested his head and recalled the details of what just happened. He was worried about Ginny. He doesn't know how he would explain everything to her. He was dazed by her reaction. He never thought she would act that violently. He knew she had a crush on him since his second year but he just thought of her as a friend. She's nice and exceptionally pretty, but he just can't feel a spark between them.

Just outside the hospital wing, Ron and Hermione waited for Pansy to come out. They both shifted anxiously as if they were waiting for Voldemort to come out of the infirmary door.

Then, moments later, the door swung open. There stood the ever imposing Slytherin Ice Princess. Her striking presence made Ron gulp loudly, causing Hermione to elbow him in the ribs. She looked at them coldly. Her blue eyes studied them like specimens in a Muggle science experiment. She walked past them and turned around, now facing both of them. "Don't you have something to ask me?" she asked grimly.

"W-What are y-you up to P-Parkinson?" Ron stuttered as his lips shivered in her freezing glare.

"What are you talking about Weasel?" she asked, raising a questioning brow.

"You know what we're talking about Parkinson. I know there is a hidden agenda in your unearthly friendliness towards Harry." Hermione crossed her arms across her chest. She wasn't affected by the cold-hearted stare of the Ice Princess. "What ever that is, we won't let you hurt Harry."

Pansy laughed softly. Amazingly, even though she was laughing, the coldness never left her eyes. "You really are so sure about yourself Granger. I thought your know-it-all attitude was just limited to academics. Blurting out assumptions in real life matters wasn't really wise, if you know what I mean."

Hermione's face reddened in anger. She's not really good at tolerating mockery but since she was protecting her perfect image at school, she fought hard to contain herself, even if crescents dug deep in the skin of her palms was the price to pay. Getting into fights was the last thing she would do. She can't risk her spot at the top of the honor roll.

"What potion did you force Harry to drink? I know he won't snog you or even touch you without something poisoning his mind." Ron growled

Pansy laughed again. "You two are a very funny couple. You were Harry's best friends but you can't even trust him?"

"We trust him Parkinson. It's you we don't trust!" Hermione hissed through gritted teeth.

"That was a given. I can't believe that the very people fighting for equality were the same people exercising prejudice," Pansy stated with a mocking smirk.

"You're a Slytherin Parkinson and you're a bloody Death Eater spawn. We knew all too well that you're just planning to get into Harry's defenses and offer him yourself to You-Know-Who!" Ron bawled. His face turned almost as red as his hair. And Pansy thought it was really funny.

"I knew you would say that. Bigotry, such an awful thing," she said in a playful tone, shaking her at the same time causing her neatly coifed hair bounce from side to side. "You really are famous for labeling people, Weasel. You'll do well in Slytherin. You'd make a good team with Draco," she sniggered at the mere thought of Ron and Draco team up.

Flushed with anger, Ron almost snapped. But Hermione was fast enough to hold the fuming redhead down, before he does something he'll regret afterwards. "Just… just quit it Parkinson. Get away from Harry," she said sharply, as if warning her.

"I don't think so Granger. You may not believe it but I don't have bad intentions. Harry is very special to me and I like him," Pansy was sincere in an instant, there are no traces of mockery or malice in her face, but in a few blinks her expression went back to being cold.

This time, Ron was the one laughing. "A bleeding cow can be funny sometimes. Can't believe it!" sarcasm was exploding from his voice.

A cold piercing glare from Pansy's blue eyes stopped Ron in the middle of his laughter, causing him to choke for a moment. Seemingly, her eyes loomed a promise of death which whimpered his sarcasm. His eyes became wary and he nudged Hermione in the small of her back. "Let's go," he whispered to her.

Hermione glared daggers at Pansy and turned around, taking Ron with him. "We're not done Parkinson. I'm not convinced of what you said about not having any bad intensions," she said over head shoulder.

Pansy did not say anything more but smirked at Harry's bushy-haired best friend. '_That was fun,_' she said to herself, before heading back to the dungeons.

Ron and Hermione walked away from the infirmary without looking back. They were still vaguely shaken by the confrontation. Hermione released an audible sigh of relief as they went further away. Pansy Parkinson really gets deep into their nerves. They simply can't take her.

"That bloody bitch!" Ron irately exclaimed.

"I know Ron," she unconsciously held his anger-shaken hand and threaded her fingers to his. They walked hand in hand towards the Gryffindor tower since it was Saturday, and they still have a lot of readings to do for the NEWTs.

~*~*~

Harry was still thinking about what just happened. He can still taste the sweetness of Pansy's lips and the coppery flavor of her blood, which reminds him of his idiocy. He should have been a little more careful about his unexplained feeling towards the Slytherin Princess. He had always been dumbfounded by her unique charm. Everything about her makes him float out of his senses. He seemed to be increasingly attracted to her every time he sees her. She grows in him as he gets to know her more.

Out of boredom, Harry assessed himself and how he feels about Pansy. It wasn't easy. Since he doesn't know what love is, he wasn't certain if he could say that he had already fallen for her. But thinking about her makes him smile inside, which is a good sign. He's not sure if Pansy feels the same way about him but her eyes and her lips tells him enough.

Thinking about her and their moments together may have been blissful for his heart but it also brings out issues regarding the conflicts it goes with, mainly with his friends. It wouldn't be easy for them to acknowledge Pansy as his friend, and it would be dreadfully hard for them to accept her to be someone more than a friend to Harry – if their relationship would go that far. He doesn't really care about what the society would say about a Gryffindor-Slytherin relationship. He'll eventually destroy the wall of prejudice and ignorance dividing houses sooner or later anyway. But his friends' blessing would still be nice.

It saddens him that they had to go through that much just to be accepted by the same people he would give his life to save and protect. In addition to that thought, he never liked lying in a damned hospital bed, being there had always made him feel sicker. He's sick of the perverted world. He's sick of how people act. He's sick of people's narrow thinking. Being sick for noticing every sickness around him makes him sicker than being sick lying in his bloody sickbed.

The world just isn't fair. It never was.

With a soft thud, the door to the infirmary opened. A worried-looking Albus Dumbledore walked in. Madam Pomfrey, standing at the other end of the hospital wing, just nodded at him and walked into her private space. Harry watched as the old man strode to where he was. He looks tired and weary. He has always been an imposing figure, an image of wisdom and power, but every step he takes ripples out his age. He's old… very old. His eyes were as astonishing as ever, twinkling and sparkling at the kiss of light. They were the only part of him that seemed alive. They were the same eyes which always see the goodness in people… the same eyes that made him believe in the old man.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" he asked in the most gentle voice.

"I'm fine professor. You don't have to worry that much. I'm a little sore, but it's not that bad," he asserted with a faint smile.

"That's good to hear, my boy," he gleamed at Harry through his half moon spectacles like he always does. It's quite comforting. His light blue eyes twinkled and spoke nothing but concern.

He almost resented the term 'boy' being used to him, since his Uncle Vernon has always spat that name without respect and affection. But coming from the gentle ancient wizard before him, it sounded more of a pet name for his favorite grandson. Professor Dumbledore has always stood as his guardian and the grandfather he never had. He may have some faults in his ways but Harry understands, somehow.

"Uhmn, professor… that incident… I mean the way I fainted… does it have something to do with my anger? It happened twice already, and both times, I was fuming with anger." The Headmaster's expression darkened. He noticed the twinkle in his eyes faded.

"Emotions are very powerful, dear boy. Like your will, it affects magic exponentially," he paused and squeezed Harry's shoulder lightly as he sat at edge of his bed. "You are more powerful than you can ever imagine Harry. Extreme emotions make you lose control, making your magical core spill out flares of raw magic."

Harry was confused. He doesn't know what exactly the Headmaster has been talking about. "Magical core?" he asked openly. "But… but I'm not powerful, professor."

"Yes you are, Harry." He nodded and let his gaze wander away from Harry. "The raw magic within you, my boy, is too much for your physique and to your young mind, I'm afraid to say." Harry was more confused than ever. "Your magic is maturing rapidly. Normally, witches and wizards reach their magical maturity at the age of eighteen. This is the time when each individual's magical core expands to its maximum. But your magic is starting to ripen a year early, which is rare." Dumbledore fixed his blue eyes to Harry's emeralds. "Having a rough childhood," he breathed a suffering sigh, "made your body's growth lag behind your rapidly growing core." Traces of sadness outlined the features of his old face as he shook his head. "It is my fault Harry. I shouldn't have let you live with those people."

"It's not your fault professor," Harry said quietly. He knew the implications of his past to what's happening to him but he can't really blame the Headmaster. "I will never be the Harry in front of you if you did not do what you did professor. You were doing what is best for everyone," stating the latter in a sad voice.

"I'm sorry Harry. I thought I was doing the right thing. I know what I did was unforgivable. I kept many things from you, including the prophecy, and it brought you sufferings beyond your self. You were so young, my boy, but this old foolish man in front of you have unconsciously brought you into a dark and miserable life. I have made mistakes and I will carry the burden in my heart and in my conscience to my grave." Sadness was painted all over the ancient wizard's face.

Harry remained silent. His head was hung down, lazily looking at his sweaty hands. He doesn't know how he would react. He hates what Dumbledore did, but he just can't hate the man himself. He knows what he did was based on what he believed to be for the greater good. He weighted tough decisions in his own hands and chose what he thought was right. He wanted to yell at him and curse him for all the sufferings he brought into his life, but he just can't be that immature, not in this time.

"Was that the reason why I fainted?" he muttered, not looking up.

"It is one of the reasons, my boy. But there's something more." Harry shifted anxiously. He knew that there was something more than his body's lack of capacity to contain his overwhelming magic. He looked up to the Headmaster and waited for him to continue his explanation. He lifted his hand and unconsciously pressed it over his bandaged forehead, just above his scar.

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "Yes, Harry. This has something to do with Tom Riddle," he looked at the teenager before him, "That scar… the mark he carved into your being, has been a link between your souls."

Harry was shocked by what Dumbledore just said. His jaw dropped wide as he gasped for air to refill his struggling lungs. His soul is linked to none other than the murderous psychopath, Tom Riddle. "H-how?" That was the only word that came out of his mouth.

"The night at Godric's Hollow, when he…" Dumbledore gazed compassionately at Harry. Harry just nodded for him to continue, "…killed your parents and tried to end your life, the charm Lily used to protect you, even though it wasn't completed, made a layer of magic around you, causing a killing curse to just etch an ugly scar in your forehead. Your mother used a very complex charm from the magic of the old. It was her love… her love for you that caused Tom Riddle's first fall. That charm had woken up the dormant power within you Harry and has nothing to do with the destruction of Voldemort's physical form. It was the flare of your immaturely awaken magic that destroyed him. Your mother's love and the incomplete charm protected you from the backlash of your own magic. You could have died without the charm."

Harry was literally weeping. Tears were flooding his pale face. The thought of that night made his heart shatter and be ground into dust, crushing him from the inside. That was the night that changed his world. That was the night when the crown of torn was bestowed unto his innocence. His heart was shouting all his pain out but only the shadows of his being hearken.

Dumbledore continued. "A fragment of Tom Riddle's soul went through the weak point of your protection, the scar. It wasn't his intention to have a part of his soul inside you Harry, but it helped him to restore the rest of his shattered soul. Without a body, he's practically powerless. He used your undeveloped core to leech out magic to preserve the rest of him before he finds himself a vessel, and that fragment of his soul within you created a link between your magical cores."

"How did you know all of this?" Harry almost shouted. He can't believe that he was connected, somehow, to the monster he despised most.

"I have been observing you Harry ever since you started here at Hogwarts. The way Tom affects you through your scar made me conduct a thorough study of what could have been the cause of that connection. If you can still remember, the incident at the Ministry when Tom tried to possess you was the moment I confirmed my fear. At that time, Tom already has a physical form, he may not be as human as everyone is, but he is corporeal. No physical being can ever possess another physical being unless he has something of his in you. And in your case, Tom Riddle has a fragment of his soul inside you."

"I see. B-but… how can I get rid of the darkness within me? How can I kill him if he will continue to live as long he has a part of him in me?" he asked despite his quivering voice.

"That's what I've been trying to decipher, dear boy. He will be immortal as long as you live. You can defeat him again, but he'll rise yet again. The worse part is that he can easily kill you for your death won't do him any harm. Once you're dead, the fragment of soul within you will be freed and be reunited to his, which will make him more powerful."

"That's not good. We're in the losing end," he stated fretfully.

"Yes, that may be true, but according to Severus, Tom had experienced more pain than you have during those times when you fainted." Dumbledore said as he pursed his lips and furrowed his brows, "That makes me think that the link can't contain the surge of your raw magic. The purity of your magic gives him so much agony and it tortures him to his very core."

Harry looked up to the Headmasters blue eyes, more life has been shimmering his emerald eyes now as he flashed a faint sign of hope from them. "So, I could just learn to control my magic and concentrate more to the link to break it permanently, if not, at least I could inflict pain to that psychopath," he grinned.

The Headmaster shook his head. "It's not that easy Harry. You can also get yourself killed."

"But-" he was trying to protest but Dumbledore interjected. "No!" he looked at him sternly. "We can not take that risk. I shall find a better way." He looked him in the eyes and placed his wrinkled hands above his shoulders. "All you have to do for now is prepare and take care of yourself. Your old man will take care of the rest." His eyes twinkled before he stood up. "By the way, Occlumency is pretty useful in controlling your emotions. It would also be of great help in more things than you can ever think of." He smiled widely making his crooked nose crinkle. "Later dear boy," he said before waving his oddly colored robe and vanished into thin air.

Wide-eyed, the startled Harry Potter shook his head. "I thought no one can apparate within the wards?" he muttered to himself. "Oh well, maybe the rules doesn't cover a barmy old man."

_tbc…_

AN: Oh well, I think djo1's right. I shouldn't wait for x number of reviews until I post a finished chapter. I'm sorry… but… you see, I enjoy reading your reviews as much as you enjoy reading my story and I'm still looking forward to read more feedbacks so I'd know if I'm doing the right thing. By the way, it will take me a week to post the next chapter/s. I'm still working on the story line and that would make me re-read and re-write all of the scribbles I've penned. Since the next few weeks will be very busy for me… yeah school works and all, I'll have less time working on this story so please bear with me. Thank you. Don't worry I will not abandon this story. I love this story as much as you do.


	5. Chapter 5: Feeling the Feeling

Disclaimer:

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note:

Here's the fifth chapter. Read and Review. Enjoy!

**Chapter 5: Feeling the Feeling**

Harry went straight to the Gryffindor tower as soon as he got out of the Hospital Wing. He sat alone in the common room. All of his house mates were still at the Great Hall having their dinner. He watched as the fire danced and crackled at the fireplace. There's nothing much to do which leads him back in dwelling with what the Headmaster had told him earlier that day. He should be more careful these days, not just because Voldemort has another advantage over him but because of the negative reaction of his body to the surge of magic from his core whenever he experiences extreme emotions. One more thing, where the hell would he learn Occlumency? Dumbledore suggested it but he did not offer any help. That means he can't count him in to be a possible teacher. Snape? That's a big no. He had enough of him. He still has a little love for himself that he wouldn't dare ask him or get near the greasy git.

The would-be after-dinner conversation between him and his two best friends wouldn't really help his current situation. He was sure it would reach the extremes. He was thinking of ditching the meeting with his friends, but he thought that he needs to explain everything to them. As much as he wanted to avoid something like what had happened the night before that had him lying in a sickbed, for the love of magic, he felt responsible for his earlier actions. '_Urgh! Pansy, you'll be the death of me!_' He's already seventeen; he shouldn't do his usual sudden-disappearance acts just to run away from mature conversations, if it's fit enough to call it that.

He had grown up from a scrawny, overly-emotional, downright arrogant and hot-headed kid to a level headed young adult. He had a greater scope of things now, and he was sure that Pansy was one of the reasons of his change. He just hoped that Ron could also do the same and Hermione would just tone her super-imposing, hoity-toity, nagging know-it-all attitude. If that happens, things would be a lot easier.

Yes. Everything will be a lot easier… easy raised to the nth power if that would just happen. But in Harry Potter's life, easy is never a real word, imaginary, maybe.

He misses his best friends. It's not that they weren't together anymore, but having both of them beside him and at the same side as him makes things hundred times better. Just like old times. But things have changed. He changed. He grew up. And he can't just wait there and do nothing as he watches the two-thirds of the golden trio find their own ways of growing up.

A buzzing noise and a hint of chattering almost made him smile. The sounds came from the other side of the door, which is the fat lady's portrait. They've already finished their meal and it's time to go back to their comforting second home. It's quite lonely in their common room even with all the bright and lively colors of red and gold, he noticed. '_Yeah. Silly me, of course it's lonely. I'm all alone here!_' Having the noisy Gryffindors in, completely brings him back to good old times, when he would just spend nights laughing, playing chess with Ron, exploding snaps with Dean and Seamus or even doing nothing with Neville. Doing homework with Hermione and the other girls is all fun in a different context. He can't keep himself from grinning. It's fun to be normal, but unfortunately, he's not… and will never be one.

A bang and stomping footsteps signaled that they're all here. As much as he wanted to greet each of them, smile and shake each of their hands for successfully making his way out of his sickbed, he chose to stay put and lingered in the couch he was sitting in. He waited patiently for Ron and Hermione, but as the last of the bunch entered the common room, there's still no sign of his best friends. He wasn't worried or anything, but he knew they were sidelined by something.

He stood up, greeted some of his friends and strode out. They were the ones who set the after-dinner meeting but they did not even make sure that they'll come in time. He can be vexed too, if they didn't know that.

He went out to find them and meandered in the half-lit corridors. He was walking aimlessly for almost half an hour before he realized that he was just wasting time. "What the hell, why didn't I think of that?" he whispered to himself. "I have the Marauder's Map for Merlin's sake!" Without taking another step further, he spun and ran back to the Gryffindor tower and into their dorm room, asking himself if his accident the night before caused his untimely forgetfulness. He dug into his trunk and found what he was looking for. He grabbed the Marauder's Map and pocketed his invisibility cloak.

Harry tapped the tip of his wand into the blank piece of parchment. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he recited in a whisper. Then blots of ink spread out and revealed the map.

He scanned the map, trying to locate his best friends. Maybe they were caught up in an emergency Prefect's meeting. Both Ron and Hermione were named prefects, but Harry wasn't. That was one of the reasons why Harry had too much free time this year. He can't even play Quidditch because of the bloody ban. '_Damn that Umbridge!_' And for the some bloody reason from the board of governors, the ban hasn't been lifted yet.

He scanned every inch of the map. It's quite hard to find anyone at this time. It wasn't even an hour after dinner and some students and professors are still loitered outside their common rooms and sleeping quarters.

With a little touch from lady luck, he spotted Pansy in the map. She's with Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis at the library. She's probably studying in advance for their NEWTs. She may not be as bright as Hermione but she has always been one of the top students in their year, including both of her companions in the library. He can't help but smile. He should see her after he finds his friends.

After a few more minutes of thorough scanning, thanks to his four eyes, he found them. But to his surprise, they weren't in a meeting with a professor or with other students. They were in the third floor, inside a broom cupboard. Their labels were almost overlapping each other, almost impossible to read. "Merlin on a bike!" Harry almost shouted. "Broom cupboard? Together? Overlapping names?" His jaw dropped like it weighed more than a ton. He can't believe what he just discovered.

~*~*~

"Hey! What are you doing there?"

"Nothing mate. Just a little nervous," Harry muttered.

Holding the front door open, Bob laughed his lungs out. Harry wasn't joking. He's really nervous and his face was indescribable. "What? That's ridiculous James! You've been in and out of this house for years now."

Flushed, Harry threaded his fingers through his shoulder-length black hair. "Yeah, you're right mate. I shouldn't be that nervous. It's just you and your mum." Harry forced a smile. He was never good at this. His anxiety just keeps on seeping out of his demeanor.

Bob just laughed and led him in. Harry knew that telling them the truth would only lead to two possible outcomes. It's either they would just accept him like what they did years before or they would resent him for not telling the truth. But deep inside him, he doubted that the latter would happen. Luckily, if everything goes exceptionally well, he could just walk out of there like they just had their usual dinners.

Mrs. Turner was in the kitchen when they arrived. She was preparing cupped apple pies for that night's dessert. She always looked so lively when she's in the kitchen.

Harry was smiling. Half the anxiousness he felt had just flown away like magic, well maybe it was magic. Seeing the lovable old lady just sweeps his worries away. He won't deny that Mrs. Turner had already made it deep in his heart. She had always been there for him in his darker years. She may not know what really bothers Harry's heart but she never falters and stays standing by his side, like all mothers do.

That thought made Harry feel a little heavy. How could he keep something from her? She had always been nice to him. She had always talked to him straight in the eye without walls of judgment and told him everything he needed to know. She even scolds him when he's a little off the moral track. He could have just told her everything. He knows she'll understand, but his do-gooder super hero nature did not want anyone be dragged into the messy hole he was in.

"Oh James! I thought you'd come." From the kitchen, the old lady ambled towards him. Her little steps took her some time to reach Harry. He could have met her half way but he chose to stay where he was.

Harry was smiling shyly as Mrs. Turner hugged him tightly like a little lost boy. Bob just stood behind him and patted his back.

"Hi Mrs. Turner," he said sheepishly, hugging the old lady back.

"He's here to storm the kitchen mum. He's too lazy to prepare food for himself," Bob cackled and leaned over the dining table to reach out for some treat.

Mrs. Turner slapped the back of Bob's hand, cutting him half way to reach his delightful treat. "Where are your manners Robert? You're thirty years old and you still act like a little boy."

"Sorry mum, I'm just hungry and all," he pleaded in puppy-dog-eyes which did not fit well with his rugged muscle-man appearance.

Mrs. Turner sighed audibly at her son's action. Harry stepped forward laughing and ruffled Bob's neatly done hair. "That's what you get when you think with your stomach mate!"

"Let's just eat," Bob motioned them down to the table as he sat down to his usual seat.

Mrs. Turner looked him down her nose and raised a disapproving brow, "Oh well, since this big brother of yours can't help himself, let's sit down and eat before he wolfs down all the food we got for tonight." She gazed at Harry apologetically and flashed a very warm smile.

It has always been fun in that house. Harry slid down his chair and waited for Mrs. Turner to say grace. Their meal time prayer was as short as always, which thrilled Bob most. Harry got used to muggle traditions such as this ever since he set his foot into the Turners' lives. He has even gone to churches with Mrs. Turner, not that he has never been to any church at all. Once or twice, his 'relatives' brought him to church, but he was seated at the far corner of the church while the Dursleys sat in front. Harry's not Catholic. He wasn't even baptized in any religion at all. He goes with Mrs. Turner to church not just because of the old lady, but he's doing it for himself. He's got nothing left and his hope is wearing down. After all, all he had to do is to believe in something and wear his remaining hope on his head. It wont hurt if he'd put his faith in some invisible hand with powers beyond anyone's comprehension. He's a little desperate and he needs all possible ways to keep him from giving up.

They ate their dinner quietly. Surprisingly, Bob did the same. Most of the time, he would just talk and talk until everything on the table becomes memories of the past. He's like a shorter and bulkier version of Ron, minus the red hair.

After the decent meal, Harry broke the silence by audibly clearing his throat. "Uhmn, sorry about that," he grinned sheepishly. "Thanks for another wonderful meal Mrs. Turner."

"You are always welcome James, you know that," she replied and gazed upon his eyes expectantly, as if she already knew Harry was going to tell them something.

"Well, I have a little confession," he looked down and shook his head, "No. It's not really a little confession. It's kind of huge."

"Whatever it is mate, it can't be that huge except if you'll tell us that you're gay. That's huge but we'll understand you. It's not that bad to have a little sister," Bob cracked into laughter but his happy hour was cut short by his mum's deathly glare. "Sorry, that was a joke," he said while lowering his head away from Mrs. Turner's eyes.

Harry guffawed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "That was rich mate. But sad to say, it's far from that."

"You know you can tell us everything James," Bob smiled thoughtfully.

"I know." Harry glanced up and met Mrs. Turner's smiling face and she nodded at him. "First of all, I would like to thank both of you for everything. I don't think I'll survive up to this day without your help."

"You're always welcome dear," she smiled warmly and turned to his son who just grinned.

"I am really sorry for not…" he started then stopped. Tears were threatening to roll down his eyes but he managed to blink them away. "…for not telling you guys everything about me. I have kept everything a secret because my better judgment tells me that I shouldn't get anyone else involved in my miserable life." Harry looked up and saw the warm expressions of the Turners.

"Go on dear. We're listening," she patted his forearm and gazed at him understandingly.

"I am going to tell you everything now. I guess it's a little late for this but I'd like to, at least, reciprocate your trust. Just please… please don't tell anyone about this conversation. You might hear things beyond ordinary, but I assure you that I am going to be completely honest." Harry cleared his throat and clasped his hands as he shifted anxiously in his seat.

Both Bob and Mrs. Turner stared at him expectantly and nodded for him to start. "Well, I really am James Black, Harry James Black-Potter. I was commonly known as Harry Potter among my family, friends and to a huge number of special people. I have spent my childhood with my relatives at Little Whinging, Surrey since both my parents died when I was a baby. I studied in a boarding school somewhere in Scotland."

"Oh dear, I am sorry about that James. I did not know that you were orphaned at a very young age," Mrs. Turner removed her oversized glasses to wipe some trace of tear from her brown eyes. She looked at the young man before her sympathetically.

"It's okay Mrs. Turner," he smiled at her faintly. "It's really hard to grow up without my parents around."

"But you grew up at your relatives' home right? At least they took responsibility to raise and take care of you. You did turn out into a good man after all." Bob said before stuffing a whole cupped pie into his mouth.

"It could have been nice if they did not abuse me and neglect me as a human being who also has needs like everyone else," Harry drearily said.

Bob stifled at Harry's statement causing him to spit out most of the pie from his mouth. "Bloody pie! They did what?"

"You heard me right. I did not grow up in a loving home. I slept in a rickety cupboard under the stairs for almost eleven years and endured sixteen years of physical and verbal abuse."

Bob's fists were almost white from clutching the table cloth. He can't believe that the very gentle-natured friend of his came from an abusive household. "Those bastards! How can they do that to a child?"

"Oh James…" Mrs. Turner stood up from her chair and sat beside the young man across the table before enveloping him in a hug. "I'm so sorry you had to go through those awful things."

"It's already part of the past," Harry forced a smile and gently pulled himself away from the old lady. "At least I did turn out to be a good man," he stated.

"I'm sorry to hear that mate. I know it's been hard for you but at least they gave you a chance to study at a boarding school."

"Well actually, the boarding school I was talking about is for special kids," Harry said. A flare of excitement mixed with fretfulness glinted from his green eyes.

"Special kids?" Bob asked, confusion was obviously spread across his scrunched face.

"Yeah, special kids." He considered not telling them about magic but a twitch from his heart tells him that he should be honest this time. "Uhmn… do you believe in magic?"

"Huh? Why are you asking me that? Am I supposed to answer?" he asked Harry and then turned to his mum "Please connect the dots for me mum, I'm a confused." Mrs. Turner just shrugged her shoulders and furrowed her silvery brows at Harry's direction.

Harry chuckled. "Magic… Do you believe in magic?"

"Come on mate. Just go straight to your point!" Bob scolded.

"You see, this is really hard to explain. This may sound out-of-this-world but I studied magic at school," Harry articulated, smiling awkwardly at Bob and Mrs. Turner.

Mrs. Turner remained quiet. She sat beside Harry without even uttering a single sound. She was always a good listener, Harry thought. Bob was always the pushy one when it comes to conversations like this. He would ask and ask and ask until you're squeezed dry of information. "Magic you say? Like card tricks, bunnies and funny hats?" Bob asked.

"Yeah something like that," he said flatly. "Okay, to brush your confusion away, look at this." Harry lifted his right hand, palm-side up and positioned it a foot away from his chest. Bob furrowed his brows in anticipation while Mrs. Turner stared on tenterhooks. With a flick of Harry's left hand, a ball of fire, the size of a football, appeared from thin air hovering an inch above his palm. A smile etched at Harry's face as he manipulated the fire, creating shapes and figures with his deft fingers.

"That was a neat trick mate! How'd you do that?" Bob jumped to his feet in astonishment, sending his chair flying behind him. Awestruck, Mrs. Turner stayed quite.

"Magic," Harry answered concisely.

"As in magic… magic?" Bob asked elatedly.

"Yeah…" he said. He banished the fireball and explained everything about magic and how it was involved in his past. The Turners listened eagerly as Harry narrated his life's story. He started everything with a simplified explanation of the coexistence of the Wizarding World and the Muggle World. The existence of another half of the world was hidden from the awareness of the non-magical beings or the Muggles. The magical world which is inhabited by witches, wizards and magical creatures such as goblins, elves, giants, werewolves, vampires, merpeople, and many more, were veiled in the shadows of the real world to protect the balance between them. Harry also explained the existence of another governing body parallel to the British Ministry and problems corroding the foundation of the Wizarding World such as blood purity problems and the vicious cycle of racism and bigotry. In other respects, prejudice and discrimination seem not only endemic to the Wizarding World but in some cases ingrained to the level of apartheid.

For the Turners, Harry's stories may be awe-inspiring but it's pretty much implausible. "How… Er… Are you saying those things do exist?" Bob asked out of his mystification.

"Yes, mate. I know it's hard to believe but everything I said is true. I, myself, was a little overwhelmed when I was first introduced to magic. Ever since I was a wee boy, I knew something was different about me but I had no idea that I was magical. I was even labeled a freak by my relatives."

"So, you're saying that magic is real?" Bob posed like the Whomping Willow in wide eyes.

Harry shook his head, laughing softly. "Blimey Bob… just listen okay?" Bob just nodded and let him continue. "I was a little famous in the magical half of Britain. Uhmn… I never wanted the fame and all, you know. It's just that I was named The-Boy-Who-Lived in the wizarding world after the night my parents were murdered by a dark wizard. And I can't carry the fame bestowed upon my name after I, as a baby, survived an attack that got both my parents killed. It's just not fair."

"I understand dear, it must have been hard," Mrs. Turner rubbed his shoulder with her warm hand. Harry had no doubt Mrs. Turner will believe him even though what he's talking about is beyond how normal people or the muggles set their standards for reality.

Harry smiled at the old lady's concern and sympathy. Then, he continued his narration. He told them everything about him, as the boy who lived, as the chosen one in the prophecy and the one who had vanquished the menacing Dark Lord. He excitedly shared his quests and adventures at Hogwarts and thoughtfully regarded his experiences with his friends. Ignoring the pain crushing his heart, Harry acquainted them with his involvement in the war that nearly destroyed the balance of the Wizarding and the Muggle world more than a decade ago.

It hurts him but the reminiscence about everything makes his heart beat its old rhythm. At least in his thoughts he's back home. It's almost like he's physically back to the time when he's still with them. He misses Hermione and Ron, Ginny and the rest of his red-headed family, his other friends, the whole Wizarding world, and more than anything, his Pansy.

He told them stories about his friends and Pansy and they eagerly listened. He narrated almost everything but briefly.

"Say, where are these friends of yours mate? And who's Pansy? You seem to talk about her more than anything. Is she your girlfriend? Come on James, don't be shy," Bob asked in a rapid sequence. "And by the way you look silly with that smile."

Harry wiped his smile away like brushing dirt from a sleeve. "Sorry," he said. Then he lowered his head and laugh softly. Little did the Turners know… tears were tracing the edges of his emerald eyes. He was laughing about the fact the mere though of Pansy makes him smile in a silly way, just like what Bob said, but his heart was torn apart from years of longing. He misses her so much.

"They're all in the Wizarding world," he answered. "I left our world because of some complications. Well, a little misunderstanding that turned into some sort of betrayal. It's really hard to explain it's just that… you know… what happened between me and my friends in the past had been too much for me and it deeply wounded my heart that even though the bleeding stopped, the pain did not go away. I hope you guys understand." Harry expelled a labored breath. He paused and looked away. He remained silent for a few moments before he spoke. "Oh well, moving on. Pansy… she's a wonderful person. She's the best thing that ever happened to me. And yes Bob, she's my girlfriend." A minute smile reappeared in his face.

Bob was silent. He listened intently to everything Harry was saying. It takes a little time to take in all the information about his friend's past. He almost felt that Harry got the best and the worst luck in the world at the same time. He lived in a world that was just a part of normal people's dreams. He had fame and wealth, and once lived in a fantasy world. But he, as a child and as a person, experienced the worst of the worst.

"That's sad to hear dear," Mrs. Turner said, compassionately holding his hands. "Would you mind if I ask you where Pansy is right now? You obviously love her so much."

"I don't mind at all Mrs. Turner but I don't know where she is. I have searched for her everywhere. All those times when I went off at weekends, I rummage around just to find her. I have gone through familiar and random places but I still failed to find her. Even if it'll take me forever, I will never stop. I will never give up because I know she's somewhere out there waiting for me." He glanced out to the window and into the vastness of the starless sky. "She'll wait for me. I know it. And I will find her."

"Sometimes we do not have to find the things we've lost for they shall find their way back to us or we to them. Destiny has her ways. Bound by love, your roads will eventually intertwine."

"Where did that come from?" Grinning, Harry gazed at Bob.

"Was that you Robert?" Mrs. Turner asked, a warm smile painted in her radiant face.

"Oh… did I say something?" Bob nervously shifted and smiled sheepishly. "I don't know, I just thought it would be helpful."

Harry stood up, a smile still highlighted in his lips. He approached Bob and punched him jokingly at his shoulder. "Thank you mate." He turned to the now standing Mrs. Turner and hugged her tightly. "I feel a lot better now that you know who I really am. Thank you for believing in me and for understanding my position. I am forever grateful that the two of you are my family."

"Oh dear," she said as she rubbed his back with her motherly touch. "You don't know how happy both Robert and I were to have you with us. I have always known that you're special. And I'm happy that you finally opened up and shared us your past."

"I should have done this long ago," he paused and breathed deeply. "I feel a little lighter now, like I have been freed from some sort of weight."

"It's liberating to tell the truth. It's a great feeling, just like when you learn to forgive." With a knowing look, Mrs. Turner steadfastly held Harry by the shoulders. "Your friends Harry…" she used his real name because she knew there's no more use of masking his past, "…you should hear them. Those times were dark and murky and you are at war. People who have overwhelming love towards another tends to go overboard sometimes. They unconsciously engulf their loved ones into a state far from comforting against what they really wanted. From what I see in your story, they loved you so much and they never wanted you to get hurt. But the greater they push themselves to prevent what they fear from happening, they, themselves lit the wick that led to you being hurt."

"I know that Mrs. Turner, but-" he was about to reason out but Mrs. Turner hushed him.

"No buts Harry. You will talk to them and end this misery of yours once and for all," she said firmly.

Harry knows deep inside, that he really wanted to talk to his friends. "I will try Mrs. Turner," he said and smiled thoughtfully at the old lady. Glancing down to his wrist watch, he said, "Well, it's getting late. I should get going." He pecked the old lady's cheek and shook Bob's hand. "I'll pass by the shop tomorrow."

After some good-nights and see-you-tomorrows, Harry walked out of the Turners' residence with a smile in his face. It turned out well. It wasn't as bad as he expected it to be.

'_Talk to them.'_ These words echoed in the depths of his mind as the damped coldness of the night nipped his skin.

~*~*~

His footsteps were silent; each step was carefully planted on the torch-lit floor of an empty corridor as he stalked into the darkness of the night under his invisibility cloak.

'_I need to talk to them,_' he thought, convincing himself that confronting them is inevitable. He ventured at the recent events; his mind tells him that this matter should be settled as soon as possible as much as his relationship with Pansy needs some discussion. But reconsidering things, he decided to let things pass this time. He can't just storm to an effing broom cupboard and lecture his best friends about honesty and bloody things essential to a better friendship. He knew he wasn't completely honest with them in the past few weeks and he's in no position to act like he's the patron saint of friendship.

With the Marauder's map in hand, he meandered deeper into the night. Even though he just got out of the infirmary, a bit sore in some places and a little light in the head, he chose not to confine himself inside the griffin's nest. There's far too many information in his head right now and he needs some fresh air.

He walked absently in a barely discernible state. All those years of lurking around Hogwarts at night made him a part of her, like the cold night breeze, the ghosts, the rats, the spiders, Mrs. Norris and Argus Filch. The corridors may be a warren at night but each nook and cranny were just a part of his everyday puzzle and considering he has the Marauder's map, being lost would be plain idiocy.

Passing by some closets and cupboards, he can't brush off the image of his best friends in them. Harry can't explain how he's been feeling right now. It's odd that he feels jealous about being put out of whatever Ron and Hermione was doing. They were a trio and they've always been together in laughter and in tears, in comfort and in danger. He's happy for them, really. He knows this is going to happen eventually and he has to learn to let go. Due to his observations, in time, they would finally confess their feelings and jump at each other like in the movies, but he never thought it would be this soon. The way his best friends look at each other sometimes makes him feel a little nauseous, there's just a thick damp air between the two of them that needs some sort of settling. Things may have been escalating into a new level but things do change and he knows that. Maybe this is their way of changing. Maybe this would lead to something better, like both of them maturing. He hoped they do.

His contemplation has been cut short by a screech. The sound came from the other end of the hall. Startled, Harry rushed and silently glided to where the screech came from.

Sighing in relief, all he saw was an old portrait of a tall thin man with a goat-like face. His hair stood oddly, forming horn-like shapes and his goatee was stiff and sturdy. He wore a ruffled fuchsia dress robe, shiny gold tights and funny green shoes.

"What on earth are you screeching for?" Harry asked from under his invisibility cloak.

"W-who are you? Are you a ghost or something?" the odd man from the portrait stammered in a high-pitched tone.

Harry slid off the cloak and exposed his head, wearing an annoyed look in his face. "Lower your voice, I'm not a ghost," he shushed the odd man.

"A floating spectacled head!" the man from the portrait squeaked.

"Oh gods, please stop!" Harry exclaimed, trying not to yell at the portrait. He took off the cloak and placed it securely in his robe pocket. He drew his wand and cast a weak light hovering like a firefly at the tip of his wand.

"Whoa, Harry Potter! Fancy seeing you here," the portrait said in a sing-song voice.

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Baron Tigs, what happened here?"

"Correction: Baroness Tigs… it's Baroness Tigs mister Potter," he chided.

"Whatever! Going back to my question, why did you screech? What happened?" Harry cautiously looked around and flitted the faint light from his wand throughout the area.

"Oh it's nothing. I just thought I saw a short stout man turned into a rat. It must have been my eyes, sorry about that," he looked at Harry apologetically and sat back to his chair.

Upon hearing what the baron said he hurriedly checked his map. With a tap of his wand, he recited, "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good." To his shock, Harry saw the trail of Peter Pettigrew. He's on his way out of the castle. "Wormtail!" he growled as he stalked after the rat animagus.

'_What was that traitor doing here?_' he asked himself. He hadn't heard of any Death Eater activity since the battle at the Department of Mysteries. They've been suspiciously silent and now, the bloody traitor who sold his parents to Voldemort is prowling around Hogwarts. He has to move… something has to be done. Voldemort's up to something and catching Wormtail would be a good way to start. He wanted to kill the filthy rat but information is far more important than his revenge.

Stealthily, Harry followed Wormtail's track. He was painfully gripping his wand, jaw clenched, teeth grinding. He's trying hard to control his anger. After he heard everything about how his emotions affect his magical core, he knew the possibility of him bursting with raw emotions and getting himself hurt or worse, killed. But he doesn't want this to slip away. He can not turn his back to the opportunity of capturing Peter Pettigrew. This is his chance to expose whatever Voldemort is planning and to wash away the mud on Sirius' name.

Wormtail felt someone stalking him but he never paid much attention. He was always stalked by Mrs. Norris after all. All he had to do is to spook the poor cat and tada! he's free to roam where ever he wants. Plotting his devious trickery, he transformed back to his human form and huddled at a corner just outside the castle. This trick has always been effective and had sent Mrs. Norris running back to the castle for her dear life.

Wearing the scariest face he can muster, he waited patiently.

The cold breeze wrapped the rugged man. He shivered. '_That's odd._' he thought. He's used to the outside world like most of the rats. He's been to sewers and cold streets and eerie forests. He had even spent winter nights sleeping in a sheet of snow. But shivering… that's not him. He never shivers. Yes, he wet his pants, even soil them sometimes, when his master gets angry at him but even in fear, he never shivers.

His puzzlement got distracted by a sign of someone coming. He readied himself. '_You won't forget this, you old stupid cat,_' he thought, laughing evilly in his head.

Stepping out of the corner where he hid himself, "Boo!" he cried out.

The light of triumph left his dark round eyes. No one was there. There's no Mrs. Norris. There was nothing, just an empty space and dry leaves rustling.

Peter Pettigrew shivered again. '_This is not good,_' he said to himself. In a blink of his eyes, he was pinned into the nearest wall. A strong arm barred across his neck, holding him a few inches above the ground. '_Did he know my secret?_' he thought. '_That's not possible. Even the Dark Lord doesn't know about it._' He was babbling in his mind. This could be his last night if he's not able to at least touch his feet to the ground.

Wormtail's secret was the fact that he can never do any animagus transformation without his feet touching the ground. He has no way of escaping his captor if he can't transform into a rat. He's within the intricate warding of Hogwarts and apparation is not an option.

"Please release me," he begged. "I'm just a poor beggar looking for food." Of course he lied. He's no beggar and Harry knows it.

A low growl was the only answer he received. Then from thin air, a wand appeared and was pointed between his teary eyes. "Please, have mercy," he pleaded. "Just put me down and I'll get lost."

"Why are you here?" a deep and angry voice asked him.

"I'm sorry, I was wandering around looking for food and I ended up entering this majestic castle," he reasoned out.

"Stop lying Wormtail!" Harry bellowed.

Recognizing the voice of his captor, Wormtail smiled. "Oh, Prongslet! It's good to see you," he said wiggling his worn out brows.

"Stop stalling and answer me!" He pushed his arm harder into the stout man's throat. "What on Merlin's name are you doing here?" shaking in anger, the cloak covering his face slid sideward, exposing his face to the pale moonlight.

"Ho… ho boy… looks like James had himself an angrier version of himself!" he laughed and coughed as Harry's forearm prevents air to freely pass through his throat. "You're mother will be sad to see you being this violent to an old friend," he said, panting painfully in between each word.

"Do not talk about my parents! You brought death upon them with that filthy mouth of yours!" Harry was fuming. Flares of glowing light flickered around him, dancing in the beat of the night. "Save the remaining air in your lungs and spill out the reason why you're here!"

Wormtail can feel the promise of death in each word the young wizard in front of him spats. He knew that in few more seconds, he will collapse due to lack of oxygen. This night could be his end.

Accepting his fate, Peter Pettigrew forced a twisted smile.

'_He will not talk no matter what,_' Harry thought.

A fog of anger and hatred swirled before his eyes. Harry lifted his wand, a spell ready at the tip of his tongue. He wanted to do this all along. He wanted to end the worthless life of this coward who sold his parents and framed Sirius up for his own safety. This garbage of a man doesn't deserve to share the same air as everyone else. He needs to die.

Just as he was about to recite the incantation, something hot hit his back and he was thrown violently unto the hard stone wall. He did not see anyone. He did not feel any hostile presence. Wormtail is in no shape to retaliate and to shot him down.

He dropped almost unconscious on the soggy green. Everything around him is spinning, colors were twirling and a high-pitched ring was flooding his sense of hearing. He saw Wormtail slumped on the ground panting then in seconds, he transformed into his rat form and trailed away.

Just as consciousness was about to leave him, he spotted a blur of angry flame in his peripheral vision, then everything went black.

_tbc…_

AN: Hi! Again, thank you for the reviews. I'll post the next chapter in three to five days. I promise I'll find more time to write.


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